Lovehammer GE: Serene Star
by Bloody Mary
Summary: This is a cross over between Sailor Moon and Warhammer 40 000. The premise is like the one proposed in the "Usagi as Raised by the GEoM" thread—namely, the Emperor raises Sailor Moon as his heir. Here, you will find Sailor Moon's side of story.
1. Broken Star

**Broken Star**

Chaos is a primal force. It is not something that can be defeated easily. Perhaps it can be stopped for a while and kept at bay. Perhaps. It will still lurk in the hearts of men and then, when you think you are safe, it will return, nourished by jealousy and pettiness, anger and bitterness, disappointment, sadness, hatred… It is all that and so much more.

Galaxia hopes nevertheless that this time, it will all be different. That the bright light will shine on the galaxy forever and whatever is left of Chaos will remain weak. It seems like it can be true, this time around. The girl back on Earth, Sailor Moon, shone so brightly.

But Chaos is not thwarted. It may be weakened, it may be scattered, but it knows its prize has ran off. It will not accept it. Galaxia is still weak, tired and the crystals are still just that—little lights, nothing more. This time around, there is no subtlety. This time it strikes and takes what was once already in its possession.

Galaxia is first, too surprised to react. One moment, she's full of hope and the next she's surrounded by the darkness. Trapped. The seeds follow.

She smells rot and blood, despair and hatred. She hears laughter and whispers, arrogance and decadence. They dance, and twist, and where one ends the other begins, and she cries out.

* * *

Tsukino Usagi may seem a fragile, weak creature. She cries easily—she is crying right now, whispering to her dead friends. They're gone and she is all alone. One girl with a whole world on her shoulders.

Then she hears. The same voice she heard just moments ago thanking her, now calls out again. For aid. Usagi freezes. She looks on, eyes wide with fear and shock. Had the fight not just ended? Should there not be at least a moment of peace? But those are just fleeting thoughts. The cry for help still rings in her ears and she will not be idle.

"Sailor Moon!" she hears and looks down. The Starlights, battered and bruised, are still there.

Seiya—Sailor Star Fighter—is looking up, her blue eyes wide.

"Did you hear that as well?" Usagi asks. She gazes up again, worried.

"We did," Taiki replies. "We-"

"We have to go!" Yaten snaps. "Don't you feel it? Something happened to the Princess!"

It takes Usagi a moment to register they mean Kakyuu. She is just so used to being the Princess—is it vain, she wonders briefly, but the thought scatters away like a startled bird moments later. Galaxia, something happened to Galaxia and with her the star seeds.

"I'm going," she says, looking towards the three Senshi on the ground. "She- They need me. I couldn't-"

"We're going with you," Seiya states, before she can say anything. "Our Princess is in danger, and we will not leave her. We will not leave you either. You shouldn't fight alone."

Usagi smiles. She doesn't want them in danger, but… she doesn't want to go alone. Maybe it is selfish…

"But our Princess comes first," Yaten snaps.

* * *

There is light. It's blinding and gold—it should burn, but Usagi thinks it's just pleasantly warm. And yet, it slices to through the darkness, coiling around smaller lights. It wants to be an anchor, a tether.

The weak echo that lead her here still rings in her ears. She can sense her friends somewhere out there—no, not somewhere. They're in the light, their star seeds caught in the middle of the desperate struggle. Usagi doesn't pause to consider her actions, she acts.

She flies into the light. It is by no means an easy way. The darkness does not want her—it rejects her as fiercely as the golden light. She struggles against it, putting all her power into the effort of moving forward. If she can reach them—if she can protect them, then she will gladly give up everything.

And so she does. By now she isn't flying on pure white wings—they're bloodied stumps. Her body is a ruin, bleeding, bruised and withered. Perhaps, she should have rested, but then what chance of finding her friends would she have? The Starlights plow on behind her and despite her attempts to shield them, they are falling apart too.

In a last ditch attempt they give her all. They fall apart, and all that she is left with three little pin-pricks of light. She grasps them and cradles them, allowing their warmth to sooth her pain. She doesn't know if the moistness on her cheeks are tears or blood, or both. It does not matter—she will save her friends.

She pushes on. And still, she loses more. The darkness realizes it cannot stop her like this, not by hurting her. Instead it tries to steal: her memories, her mind. Instead of resisting, she sheds all she can. The darkness swallows all that she learned from her mother, the familiar faces, the smells, the sounds.

But in its greed, it does not notice that it did not take the one thing that keeps the broken wreck alive: love. Once nothing else is left, there is only the sense of urgent need to be with others. They cannot stop her from reaching the source of the golden light.

* * *

The pods remain frozen, suspended in the maelstrom. The Emperor of Mankind is immobile, and yet, he feels as if he were juggling fireballs. His focus is not only on the precious creatures hidden in the twenty metal wombs, but on the laboratory—if the Warp spills… He cannot accept the consequences.

A blink of an eye later, he decides the previous situation was easy. Something touches him—someone. For a moment, he sees her. She's a broken thing, holding on to life only through sheer force of will. Every single moment, every single breath is a fight, and yet, she persists. Despite her sorry state, she still radiates power. The Warp is soothed, calmed around her. It gives him a moment longer, long enough to look into her, but there is barely anything left, just an urgent need to protect. Scattered fragments of a life are all that she has left: a glimpse of black hair, an echo of a voice. All else she has shed, just to come this far, to save those dear to her.

"I won't- can't help… save…" she says, her voice weak.

She is looking into him—such a close contact cannot be made one-sided. In itself, it speaks already of immense power.

She must know what is at stake for him.

"Not alone," she continues. "You… and… I—alike."

He looks up to the frozen pods, to his hopes, to the future. He cannot save his sons now, not without sacrificing too much. They will slip away far away from his reach.

No, alone, he cannot save them, but she brings a promise. He cannot hold his sons and she cannot save her friends, but maybe…

He reaches out to her and they meet, a golden warrior and a silver princess. The Primarchs scatter, but not alone. The star seeds follow, her sacrifice for his. As his sons are taken, his hands touch hers. He grips her hands and drags her out, inch by inch. It is not easy—what the Warp claims, it will not let go. Her battered body is broken further and what he holds in the end is barely human.

In one final effort, she gathers what is left and reshapes it, as he focuses on sustaining the fragile spark her life has become. Around them, the maelstrom dies and reality begins to flow again. The chamber is full of noise: alarms blaring, the voices of his Custodes raised in alarm… And amidst the chaos stands the Emperor of Mankind, cradling a little girl.

* * *

**AN: **And since there's only two of us writing that, we decided that moving this to my account would less of a hassle for everyone involved. ;)


	2. Broken Star II

**Broken Star II**

* * *

He had not known what to expect at first. When the Emperor had stepped away from the wreckage of his hopes with the little girl in his arms, for once the future had been utterly unknown to him.

"Valdor, please hand me your cloak." Wrapped in smoke-stained purple velvet, the child snuggled into his arms, utterly oblivious to his golden armour, squeezed out a few silent tears and fell asleep.

As he began to make his way up from the catacombs, giving further orders to his custodians, he wondered what would become of her.

Would she stay this way? Or would this child's body constructed from the rests of her own and the energies floating around the lab grow up like the little girl she seemed to be? What of her intellectual faculties? Of the layers of personalities he had felt during their brief contact? Would they be restored, or would she remain broken and amnesiac?

"Valdor, arrange for a nursery to be equipped in my quarters. And a trustworthy person who is capable of dealing with... diapers and the likes."

He wasn't entirely sure, but the girl looked about 18 months old, and at this age, bladder control was still entirely optional. As he found out when passing through the doors of the secret elevator that had taken them up from the ruined lab.

His glamour hid the brief smile making his mouth twitch as he cleaned himself and the girl with a short exertion of psychic force.

Adepts, servants and more Custodes came running in their direction, most of them worried and confused about the explosion that had shaken the palace, but others – especially the females – immediately dissolved into cooing over the child. In three minutes, the Emperor learned about nine new words meaning cute in various dialects.

Clearly, if he wanted to get things under control, he could not afford distractions of this nature. With a tiny pang of regret, he handed her over to Constantin Valdor. "Take care of her for now. And send me your second to deal with this crisis."

If he had not engineered his Custodes with the inability to feel fear – a very useful modification, after all – the Emperor of Mankind would have sworn that it was precisely this expression appearing in Valdor's eyes as the slight, fragile form of the child was deposited in his arms...

* * *

Time came. Time answered his questions.

Serenity, as he had named the girl, from a name plucked from her disintegrating mind as she crossed over, did indeed grow up. She also matured mentally, but her memories seemed to be gone for good, except for the most basic, most instinctive understanding of her powers and her situation. And most of it only returned in situations where it was required – no gentle telepathic probing could unlock it before.

Her personality was a curious amalgam of conflicting traits and he couldn't help but wonder if that came from her traumatic entry into this world, or had always been so. She could be serious, wise and gentle, but she could also be loud, childish and immature. He supposed she would grow out of this eventually.

No matter which side of her was in ascendancy though, she was always utterly charming and endearing, making everyone love her. Even Valdor, this paragon of 'ends justifying the means' doted on her and allowed himself to laugh at her jokes or be roped into her projects.

The Emperor had been prepared to raise his sons. And because in his long life he had seen children grow and knew what inevitable problems one encountered in this endeavour, he had taken certain precautions – like giving them implanted knowledge that would enable them to lead conversations basically from birth, and that would reduce the need for training and schooling to a bare minimum.

None of this was present in Serenity. What she learned, she learned the hard way. Hypnoconditioning was out, he was too apprehensive of damaging the delicate amalgam of her mind and its buried knowledge and abilities. And so he hired teachers and instructors and set aside time to teach her himself, the things that she could not learn from anybody else.

More than once, he wished at least one or two of his sons were still around, to deal with her overflowing, boundless energy that could make a genetically engineered warrior run himself ragged following her explorations of the growing palace.

And so, he made a decision. And one day, he brought three giant warriors, only slightly smaller than the Custodes, into the nursery. "Serenity, these are Merir Astelan, Kevan Ordes and Tal Yorvir. They are your new playmates."

Used to the superhuman stature of the men she had been around from birth, Serenity scrutinised her new playmates critically. They were clearly different from the Custodes – for once, they wore no armour, but simple tunics. They also had a certain similar look that marked them as related. Carefully, the little girl reached out with her mind. Then, a wide smile broke on her face. "Oh, they are your grandsons, right?"

"In a way."

* * *

**AN: **And since we have this marvellous opportunity, we will be posting the chapters in the order they actually happened, instead of the one we have on the thread on SpaceBattles.


	3. Chasing Stars

**Chasing Stars**

"No!" Serenity said and turned her head to the side.

The Emperor of Mankind let out a sigh. That was it then. The girl had reached the "no" period. He did not dread it, of course. After all, he had brought up many a child and he knew it only lasted that long. For a being of his age it would be a mere eye-blink.

_Splat!_

Some of the apple mousse that he'd been patiently trying to feed Serenity landed on his forehead. Serenity giggled and said, "No!"

In the background, the nurse unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk in her apron.

* * *

Serenity learned to walk quickly. Her first steps were the result of her wanting to get to a toy, which had mysteriously found itself in the furthest part of her room. Then she learned to run.

And cling to her father's leg. The Emperor looked down to meet the Princess's innocent blue stare. Without stopping the conversation, he scooped the girl up in his arms.

Once he was standing straight, Serenity used the advantage his height gave her to look around. Very soon, he learned that her gaze managed to distract even Malcador the Sigillite, who after a while just could not stop looking at her and finally attempted to get her to laugh by putting on silly faces. If he had not intended to keep her existence secret for now, this ability of the princess would certainly have proven useful…

* * *

Serenity did not appreciate when her father had to work. She would have preferred that he stayed and played with her all the time, but she knew there was nothing she could do and so she had to wait for him to finish working.

Maybe she should surprise her father? Some people were painting things on the walls of the palace, so maybe she should help them? The walls in her room were covered in a wall-paper with moons and rabbits on it, but the palace corridor in front of it was quite boring.

Serenity took her trusty box of crayons and proceeded to create art, undeterred by the shrieks of her nurse. Incidentally, a few days later her new playmates moved in. And a new nurse.

* * *

Serenity had a Very Important Question. It all started with Miss Lydia, who had to take leave and was replaced by two other tutors. Serenity had been not particularly happy about it, but managed to forget her displeasure after a week. Then, after several months she had met her previous tutor, now nursing a little bundle. The bundle looked like a cross between a red orange and a hairless monkey to Serenity, but she had been polite and didn't mention that.

The Very Important Question occurred to her later, which meant she could not ask Miss Lydia. That left her playmates. Her question left them rather surprised. Merir scratched the back of his head and then said, "Well… A woman's body produces tiny eggs and the man's body produces a lot of little seeds—they're called sperm. If a sperm gets into the egg than a zygote forms and after nine months a woman gives birth to a baby."

Serenity watched him solemnly for a while, trying to make sense of what he had said. The explanation was only bare bones, but then she did notice that her playmates did not appear to be thrilled about having to answer that. It probably would be not nice of her to force them explain it in more detail.

"I need to see Father," she announced.

"Of course, Princess," Tal eplied. "He will be visiting you in a few hours."

The little girl scrunched up her nose. A few hours were ages! She couldn't wait so long.

"I need to ask him something now," she said firmly.

"You could ask us," Merir said.

Serenity pouted and shook his head. "It's an important question."

She observed the three Marines exchange looks—the kind that meant they did not understand how pressing a matter was and that they were going to be difficult. Clearly, this called for stronger arguments.

"I'll go anyway and you're supposed to look after me," she said with an air of finality.

The three exchanged more looks.

Serenity decided it was a good sign and slid down from her chair. She neatly avoided being picked up by three sets of hands and spent another fifteen minutes avoiding them over and over. Then, she reached the door and with the grace of an expert was out in minutes. She couldn't outrun the Marines, of course, but this was not the point.

The point that by the time one of them grabbed her, she was giggling happily and cuddled to him. "Please?"

* * *

The Emperor of Mankind had been a father many times before Serenity. He was well aware certain questions would fall sooner or later, having answered them countless times. "Where do babies come from?" came as a good friend, rather then some form of dreaded duty. His answer had been the same for several thousand years now, but this time around it had been also an opportunity.

"There is another way," he said, picking Serenity up so that she was his eye-level. "Before you were born, I had created twenty sons. Each of them was going to be a might warrior, a brilliant leader of man. They were going to help me unite mankind."

"Where are they?" Serenity asked.

The Emperor did not sigh, but he did look into the distance for a while before answering. "They were lost. Scattered in the Warp."

He felt his daughter cuddle to him. "But we'll find them," she stated with surprising firmness.

The Emperor could not help, but to smile at that. He returned the hug and then motioned at her daughter's rather nervous playmates. "Come. I will show you where it all begun."

The Marines followed in silence, and he could feel equal measures of excitement and anxiety from them. They knew about Primarchs, and though they had never met him, they felt instinctive loyalty towards their gene-father.

Serenity was not silent. She chattered on, asking all sorts of questions as they headed first into one of the many elevators and than towards a shuttle. The Emperor couldn't help to notice that the three Astartes were straining to hear all the details, including hair and eye-colours.

The laboratory still bore the signs of what had happened. Twenty broken tanks stood in a circle around a generator. Each bore a stencilled number. Even broken as they were, the still dominated the chamber. Astelan and the two others were drawn to the first one.

The Emperor joined them and placed his hand on one of the broken tanks. "Here is where my sons matured, until they were lost."

Serenity watched the tanks with wide eyes. Her gaze wandered each of them, but then it was drawn to the side, where the vortex had opened.

"Something more got lost, didn't it?" she said, half dreamily. "Seeds of souls…"

She held her hand palm out and something silvery glinted on it. A jewel, shaped like bloom, formed.

The Emperor of Mankind looked at it, his expression thoughtful.


	4. Broken Star - Monsters

**Broken Stars - Monsters**

It was just a matter of time until the Council of Terra learned of Serenity's existence. And then, the remaining important figures of Terra's political and societal landscape followed.

Questions came, and offers. And gifts. Some polite, some curious, some outrageous. The Emperor ignored them all. Until a lower level bureaucrat petitioned to give the Princess two young kittens born to his own pet.

It was a sincere, heartfelt gift, and one the Emperor felt he could not oppose. And so Sheba and Yumi moved to his apartments, to be coddled by his daughter and her fearsome playmates, and to sleep on every bed they could find.

They were an instant success. Serenity adored them, and they followed her everywhere, despite what the usual prejudices towards cats say.

Unfortunately, that was also the reason why tragedy struck, all too soon. One day, the Princess – then about ten years old – visited one of the charities she had set up in the petitioner's city. Sheba rode on her shoulder, while Yumi – ever more independent and thus wearing a leash – was carried in Merir's giant armoured hand. Later, Serenity would deeply blame herself for not leashing Sheba, too.

But when some of the children in the shelter were too loud in demanding the Princess's attention, the black cat spooked and jumped from her shoulder, running towards one of the open windows. Pursuit only served to panic the animal more, and so it jumped onto the sill, and either overbalanced or intentionally tried to run on…

When Kevan finally had shouldered his way through the crowd and managed to retrieve the tiny body from the street, all he could do was hide the mangled bundle of fur from the distraught girl. Their visit cut short, they immediately returned to the palace, where Serenity bitterly refused all attempts to dispose of the little corpse.

"I want to see her. Please."

She would not be dissuaded, and since neither of her three playmates felt like bothering the Emperor with something this … mundane, Kevan finally laid the little thing into a wooden box and handed it to Serenity. Maybe if she saw it, she could accept what had happened? It was not like it was the girl's first encounter with death, but maybe the first this gruesome.

He was utterly unprepared for what happened next…

Crying shining, silent tears, Serenity reached into the little coffin, taking out Sheba's body and cradling it to her chest. Blood and other substances stained her skin and her clothing, and Merir – ever the spokesmarine – wanted to protest, when Serenity began to glow.

Even their occulobes could not keep up with the brightness emanating from the child, and they were temporarily blinded. The next thing they noticed, when they had fought down the urge to shield their eyes, was a faint 'mrow?'

Blinking away blind spots, they saw Serenity stand there, her radiance dimming, holding a cat that was very much alive… If the blood stains had not been there, they'd have thought the whole thing some sort of … imagination. Then, Serenity fainted and they were too busy getting help to look after the animal.

* * *

Three weeks – and some very interesting questions the Emperor had been asking himself – later, Serenity once again cried for her kitten, as she cradled its emaciated body in her hands. It was still faintly purring, but she knew there was nothing to be done anymore.

The illness had taken the animal swiftly and brutally, making it die slowly and in agony. Once more, she ran a hand over the bit of fur that remained, then closed her eyes. The little thing gave one last, shuddering sigh and lay still. Tears ran down her cheeks as she placed it in the makeshift casket and allowed Kevan to take it away.

Then, the resolve she had shown finally broke and sobbing wildly, she flung herself into Astelan's arms, letting him hold her as she went to pieces. He stroked her hair awkwardly, unable to know what she felt or say anything to make it better.

* * *

_20 years later_

She looked down on the body on the slab. The woman had been shot several times, one of her legs almost severed. And yet, she had made it back to the Imperial lines before expiring.

"And you are sure she is carrying vital intelligence?" Serenity asked, leaning on her staff in a gesture that seemed like she had copied it from the Sigilite.

"Yes," the Intelligence Officer Torak said, involuntarily flinching from her as she reminded him of his Supreme Commander. "Agent Mara spent the last three weeks in deep cover in the enemy hive. Only some extremely important development could have made her break her cover and attempt emergency extraction. The mere threat of exposure would not have been enough. I worked with her for almost a decade, her nerve never failed. I guarantee it."

"Understood."

She stepped forward and placed her hands on the corpse. "Cover your eyes."

"Why…"

And then he understood, for she began to glow like the sun. Even his optic implants could not keep up with it, and he wondered if it was even a light, and not some psychic effect that he saw.

The light dimmed, and Serenity stepped back from the slab. Now she used the staff as a real crutch. She looked exhausted, dark shadows under her eyes, her skin white as chalk.

But the dead woman gave a cough and sat up. "What, how? I thought I was dead."

"Best debrief her now. I don't know how long you will have," the Princess said, as a medicae officer stepped forward to help the agent down.

"But… Her wounds are gone. She looks fine."

"It doesn't work that way, Torak. Whenever I do this, they soon succumb again, to disease, accident or even suicide." She sounded tired and sad. "I can't cheat death, not really. I always make it worse."

"Whatever Mara knows will save many soldiers and maybe speed up the compliance of this planet. How can that be worse?"

The Princess ran her fingers over the silver crystal fitted into her staff. "The natural order of things is that they die. It can't be denied. Whenever I do this, I feel like a monster. No, I am a monster. Like the Necromancers of old…" She shook her head. "Call me, if you need me to kill her again. Believe me, it will be a mercy."


	5. Broken Star - Lessons

**Broken Star - Lessons**

"I think it is time to say goodbye to Merir and his brothers, Serenity. They should return to their Legion."

The girl – no, she was no longer a girl, already on the cusp of being a young woman – took a step backwards, wrapping her arms around her in a protective gesture. She raised her blue eyes to meet her father's gaze.

"No. I still need them. There are so many other Space Marines. But they are my friends." Her voice was petulant, childlike and more than a little desperate. "Without them, I'm all alone."

The Emperor looked down at her and sighed. "As you wish, Serenity." For a moment it looked like he wanted to add something, but then he reconsidered and merely turned and walked away.

Serenity trembled. Allowing Merir, Kevan and Tal to go back to their Legion, to travel with them to the stars… She couldn't imagine it, couldn't imagine being without them. They had been around her since she was very small. For all her life, basically. And now her father wanted to take them away? How could he?

"Are you all right?"

Her three playmates entered the room, looking worried. She was not sure if they had heard the discussion, but given their enhanced sense, they probably had.

"No… Father wants to send you away."

Was it her imagination, or did they look shocked. "Send us away? Did we do wrong?" Tal, the quietest of them, asked.

"No. It's me. He thinks I'm too old to have playmates. He's wrong. You are my friends. One is never too old to have friends, right?" She wrapped her arms around his middle, as far as they reached, and buried her head in his pectorals. A big hand began to pet her back and she smiled, her earlier upset forgotten. It wasn't like her father would ever do anything against her will.

Well, maybe some things, but nothing as personal as taking away her friends.

* * *

The party was amusing. It was very rare that Serenity was invited to the kind of entertainments the nobles of Terra gave, but on this day, she was lucky. Some General, the brother of one of the Council of Terra, if she remembered correctly, celebrated his retirement, and her father was attending it.

"Good service needs to be honoured."

And since grown up parties were terribly boring, the General's granddaughter was holding another one for the daughters and nieces and whatevers of those attending her grandpa's celebration. For whatever reason, Serenity had actually been invited, and allowed to attend – and she was enjoying herself immensely, even though she was almost the youngest girl in the room. She enjoyed being treated as an equal by the others.

The girls drank exotic teas, ate – tiny – bits of cake made from the most outrageous things, listened to a trio of musicians and gossiped. Most of them had far less freedom than Serenity, being under the watchful eyes of chaperones almost all the time. To their delight, this was private enough they didn't have to put up with their personal watchdogs.

Serenity, of course, had brought her playmates. And they were all the rage here, being admired by the other girls, who were utterly captivated by their size, physique and the way their voices reverberated in the room.

Later, when the girls began to play a card game, one of them had learned from a bodyguard who had served in the army before – it was a simple betting game, but something soldier's played and therefore delightfully wicked – Astelan and his brothers were the most sought after card partners, because they never forgot a card.

This was the point when Serenity began to feel … uncomfortable. She couldn't place it yet, and she was still laughing and betting buttons (which they had settled on, since they had no real money). Her pile was pretty big, since Merir, on the other side of the table, was giving her clues all the time – and thus she never made any mistakes.

Eventually, Idris and Fera, the girls they were playing against, gave up. Fera just shrugged and allowed her younger sister to drag her to the improvised dance floor, but Idris remained seated, a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face.

"You don't know how lucky you are," she said, finally, her mind obviously made up.

"Why?" If Serenity was honest, she could think of any number of reasons for her to be lucky, but she had a sinking feeling that Idris was hinting at none of them. The girl was several years older than her, and some of her implications were lost on the princess.

"Well, none of us, no matter how rich our parents are, could afford slaves like that. Genebred ones are expensive, and those abilities are restricted, you can't buy one with eidetic memory on the market."

"What?" Serenity's voice was a tiny squeak, like a mouse being trodden on. "What are you talking about?"

Idris rolled her eyes, obviously considering her silly and dumb. "Him. Or is that it?" She pointed her thumb at Merir, whose face showed no emotion at all. Hadn't all evening, if Serenity was honest. "All three, in fact. Great work, and so well trained. All stoic. Even to Mimi… who has rather inquisitive fingers."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Later, Serenity would find out it had just been her imagination, as nobody, except Astelan, had heard Idris talk. The silence was all in her head, as she realised how the other girls had been viewing the Space Marines… Her emotions were a confused tangle of shame, anger, regret, feeling affronted… but mostly, of rage. Red hot, blinding anger.

Then, she threw herself at Idris, punching the other girl in the face. "How dare you, you, you monster!"

Unfortunately, at least, unfortunately for Idris, Serenity had been trained in close combat since she was old enough to learn how to throw a punch. So, she didn't merely slap her. Instead, the princess's fist connected squarely with her nose, and broke it. Blood spurted. The second hit was on the solar plexus, making her choke, gag and throw up. The third strike, aimed at her chin, would have likely knocked her out – but it never connected. Instead, a giant fist caught Serenity's, gently but firmly, and a second hand grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her back.

"Don't." Astelan's voice was calm.

For a moment, Serenity struggled in his grip, causing her pretty dress to tear, spluttering incoherent insults at Idris and the other girls. Then, she gave up, feeling the absolute futility of her struggle. "But she insulted you. She called you a thing!"

"She did."

"Don't you care?"

"No. Whatever she says cannot change what I am." He put her back on her feet.

The anger was still hot in her, but she knew better than to leap at the other girl again. Instead, she realised that everybody in the room was looking at them, at her bloody fists, her torn dress and at Idris sprawling on the floor screeching like a banshee. The governesses and bodyguards who had been banned from the room were storming in, and mostly stuck in the doorway. She needed to think on her feet now, or this would turn even uglier.

Getting a grip on her temper Serenity smoothed down her skirt, and raised her head. Putting on her best, haughtiest expression, she called Tal and Kevan to her. "We are leaving now."

Then, she directed that icy glare she had picked up from Malcador at the grown ups in front of the door. "Make way. Any complaints you can address to my father." That worked, and although she knew there would be hell to pay later on, she swept from the room like a queen.

* * *

There were consequences, of course. Unpleasant ones. Serenity had her first real fight with her father, who calmly explained the values of self control and the consequences of wielding power. That made her explode again, trying to explain how insulting the other girl had been. And she learned how it felt to be brushed off, when he simply left and said he would talk to her again when she stopped behaving like a selfish, spoiled brat. "Who did she insult? Think about that, Serenity. What made you so angry?"

First, she simply raged, throwing things against the walls. Finally, when it was dark outside, and her anger spent, she sat in her room, looked out of the window over the sprawling, growing palace grounds and began to think.

The sun was rising outside, when she knocked timidly at the door to the Legionnaires' room. Astelan opened the door and saw her outside. Her eyes were downcast, and she held her hands folded in her lap as she went down on her knees like a penitent.

"I am sorry. I did this to you, not Idris. I treated you like toys, showed you off. I acted like you belonged to me. It is my fault they insulted you. I apologise."


	6. Broken Star - Purpose

**Broken Stars - Purpose**

In general, the Emperor was quite content with how Serenity had turned out. There had been a few rough patches, especially a rather unexpected bout of teenage selfishness, as well as potentially game-changing abilities… But all in all, things were proceeding exactly as planned.

And so he was not surprised at all, when one day, about two months after Astelan, Ordes and Yorvir had rejoined the First Legion and left Terra in three different Expedition fleets, there was a shy knock on his door. "Come in, Serenity."

She came in, her surviving cat, Yumi, on her shoulder, and stopped in front of his desk. While she didn't take the animal out of the palace anymore, inside they were still inseparable.

"Father…"

"Yes?"

It amused him when she looked so shy and timid, and her thoughts made clear she was anything but. He didn't read them, but he felt the shape of them, the bubbly enthusiasm of her mind that shone like a beacon whenever he turned his thoughts to her. She was very excited about her new idea, and tried to act demure, ladylike and grown up.

Moments like this made all the effort of raising her utterly worth it, he mused.

"I… want to go with you when you leave the next time. I want to go on the Crusade, too."

"Hm…" He made a show of thoughtfulness, tickling the tip of his nose with his quill. "Why? You can do a lot of good on Terra, little Princess. Malcador says you are invaluable to him."

"But I don't want to sit on Terra and talk to stuffy boring politicians and stupid nobles for Malcador. He just makes me talk to them because they are boring him silly, too." She pouted.

The Emperor's glamour hid his smile. What an astute judge of character the little one was becoming. "I am not saying you cannot come… I was always hoping you would eventually join me to conquer the stars. But why are you coming to me now? Is it because you are feeling lonely?"

"No." She shook her head emphatically. "It is because of something Merir said when I asked them if they wanted to go. He said, yes, for that was what they had been made for. To fight Mankind's wars. To conquer the galaxy that is Humanity's birthright. He also said he'd miss me, but that is beside the point."

Her father gave her an inquisitive look. So far, no lessons in rhetoric, no lectures on conversation techniques, had managed to break her out of her meandering manner of speech, fluttering from one topic to the next, like a butterfly. It was charming, but it also was a liability, if she ever should start to command troops.

Now she smiled ruefully, interpreting his gaze correctly. "Well, when he said that, I wondered what I had been made for. To be a pretty ornament to Malcador's politics? To be your voice on the Council of Terra? I hope not."

"What makes you think you have been made for anything, Serenity? Astelan is Legiones Astartes. They gave up their humanity to serve mankind. Why do you compare yourself to him?"

This made her thoughtful. She knew the story of how she had come into being, of course. He had told her his recollections of it, he didn't really know what she had been thinking then, what she had intended. And so far, the memories had not resurfaced, or she had chosen not to reveal them.

Serenity chewed on her lower lip and frowned. "Because… Because I have a purpose also. Beyond being a kitten transport." She tickled Yumi's chin. "I don't know it yet. And I won't find it out on Terra, for if I could, I'd have found it by now. I don't know why I came here, why I stayed. I don't know what I was. But I am determined to find out."

The Master of Mankind nodded. "As you wish. I will leave Terra in a week. If you still intend to join me then, you are welcome. I am sure I can arrange for your education to be continued on the journey, too."

This caused her to groan.

"No skipping on lessons, little Princess." He gave her a stern look.

"Yes, Father. I will pack my books." She sighed, deeply world weary like a 500 year old matriarch, and once again, he used his glamour to hide his smile.

* * *

**AN:** The Watcher and the Wind story arc in "Lovehammer GE: Primarch Origins" comes directly after this piece.


	7. Star Souls

**AN:** This story picks up after the end of the _Watcher and the Wind III _chapter of The Primarch Origns ( s/8993147/3/Lovehammer-GE-Primarch-Origins). It's best if you read it first, before reading this chapter, if you hadn't already.

**Star Souls**

Qamar watched Serenity as she had been instructed to. The other girl held her hands at the height of her chest and closed her eyes. Then, after a moment, a spark of light started glimmering between them. Slowly, a silvery crystal formed between her hands, a spark lighting it from inside.

"You want me to create trinkets?" Qamar asked, only to flinch back from the chiding look that the Emperor gave her.

"No, child," he said. "This 'trinket' is a source of power for Serenity. I want to see if you can materialize yours."

Qamar stared at the crystal with an expression of disbelief. It looked so breakable—surely, she wouldn't have anything like that. Then, she scratched the back of her head. She had no clue how to just make… her power take a physical form.

"Uh… How do I do that?" she asked, giving Serenity a puzzled look.

"Try to focus on what your powers make you feel and then concentrate it into one point," the girl replied.

Obediently, Qamar closed her eyes and tried to think of the sense of freedom that came with the wind. It wasn't that difficult. But focusing it? How in the world did one focus a feeling outside of oneself?

In the end, she tried imagining the wind dancing in front of herself. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing, but felt a slight breeze on her cheeks. There was something in front of her, but it was air and she could not see it… Hesitantly, she reached out and tried to grasp it nonetheless. For a moment, it almost felt as if she was grasping a sword made of air, but then the wind scattered.

She watched her outstretched hand become blurred, feeling more and more light-headed. Then, she fainted.

* * *

He had hoped that the Cthonian girl would be a significant stepping stone for his research on those soul gems that he had glimpsed when Serenity had first appeared. Clearly, he had been too optimistic. It seemed that Serenity was an exception rather than the norm—Qamar had not managed to materialize her own star seed, as Serenity referred to it, despite several attempts and coaching.

The Emperor was used to setbacks. If one lived as long as he did, one encountered them nearly constantly, be it in human, xenos or any other possible form. On the bright side, the girl was capable of summoning something, but it remained incorporeal and drained her with alarming speed. Unfortunately, it still left him with his initial problem: he could not gather data without studying a star seed. And the only one readily available, he could not risk for fear of harming Serenity.

Focusing on paths that were unavailable to him was of no use. Instead, he needed to think of what he could do to get to the point where he would have some useable data.

How had the girl described what she had summoned? She spoke of a sword, so perhaps giving her one to use as a focus or teaching her sword-fighting would help? It was a leap of logic at best, but then so far he could not discern any logical pattern to how the powers of either Serenity or Qamar worked.

Who was he to complain? The Warp had never been compliant or logical. Why should he expect other sources of similar powers to be more easily understood?


	8. Star Souls II

**Star Souls II**

Accidents happen. One can be cautious, observe all safety procedures, and still be found wanting. A gust of wind at the wrong moment, an old, weathered piece of wood… Anything can be a reason for tragedy.

Qamar, ten years of age, died after falling from one of the slender towers of the Imperial Palace. No one was certain what possessed her to try climbing there, though given the wild and competitive nature of the girl, it was generally assumed that she had heard or read somewhere it was too dangerous to try, and that no one had done it before. Serenity knew it was wrong. Qamar had yearned to feel the wind, and only on the highest towers it could be felt in the Imperial Palace. She had also sensed that the girl had died even before Qamar's body was found—she met the Emperor just as he was heading towards where he had felt Qamar's life flicker out.

"She's gone," Serenity wept.

Silently, with a mental command, the Master of Mankind sent two Custodes to get the body. There would be time enough to inure the Princess to the sight of broken bodies later.

"Qamar died," he agreed. "You felt it, did you not?"

Serenity nodded and brushed her tears away. Her brows creased in concentration and hesitantly she added, "Qamar is dead, but… I don't know how to say it… she—not Qamar, but what she really was—still lives."

Slowly, the Emperor nodded. He had sensed the girl's life end and her soul did not dissolve in the Warp. It disappeared from its location. Perhaps Serenity was right, or perhaps she was simply deluding herself in her grief. He placed his hand on her shoulder and led her away to talk.

Truly, Qamar couldn't have become more inconvenient if she had tried. Without his primary test subject, the Emperor knew that his research on the "star seeds" could not progress. Serenity was simply too valuable to risk. True, this was hardly the only pursuit he was engrossed in and not even the most important. There was the project of a human Webway, the Great Crusade, Magnus…

Even more vexingly, the girl's body yielded no secrets. She was no different from any other athletic human girl of her age. Her muscles, bones and skin were just like that of any unaugmented human—he had no choice but to conclude that the increased strength, speed and durability the girl had demonstrated in life had been a psychic effect. Just like the Emperor and Serenity had sensed, the girl's star seed was gone.

And then, ten months later, he sensed the presence of Qamar appear again. In Merica no less, where Horus and Serenity had visited nine months ago. It was simply too contrived to be a coincidence. Therefore, as soon as it was possible, the Emperor left the Palace on an unannounced visit to one of the Merican hospitals.

* * *

And so, the Emperor found himself holding a baby girl, who undeniably had the same Warp signature as the late Qamar. Her exhausted mother babbled nervously, telling him just why she had decided to name the girl Kressida. The Emperor nodded at the appropriate times, having had millennia to master the art of listening without paying attention.

As he examined the child, his mind worked over the new information. When she appeared, Serenity had sent the star seeds to become people… to become people again—yes, those little gems had once been hidden in a living, breathing body. It seemed that it was not something that happened only once—instead it was a process that was repeated every time the bearer died.

There was no sign of Warp-taint in the girl. She was healthy and would develop the same powers as Qamar in time.

Qamar's death was an unfortunate accident, but he could not think of it as a setback anymore. Instead, he saw new possibilities. The Emperor's glamour hid his triumphant grin as he told the girl's mother that she would live in the Imperial Palace from now on.

* * *

Mortality is a complex thing. For a human being it is part of their life; everyone knows they will die one day. And yet, at the same time, death is something that is always far away until suddenly, it's there. No one truly believes they may die at any given moment.

As one grows, one does learn to understand what an unnecessary risk is or one becomes a lesson for others. The difference between those two may often be one slippery stone or a gust of wind. Qamar had not considered any of this.

One could not expect her to think of such matters—at her age death was at its most distant. It was something that happened to others, not to oneself. The lesson of her brother's death had yet to truly sink in.

Her mind was occupied by different thoughts and feelings. The Imperial Palace was oppressing—too large and full of rules. She could not understand how Horus or Serenity could stand it and even thrive in this place. Neither seemed bothered that the sky and the wind was far away, strangled by polluted clouds.

But Qamar hated it. She did not belong—she was no princess, and neither was she created to become some uber-general. Her home was back on Cthonia, in its abandoned mines, or somewhere where she was not cut off from everything that made her feel alive.

She was not certain when the idea came to her, but at some point she realized that the high slender towers were not there just to make the whole place more magnificent. One could goto the top, and feel the true freedom of the sky. Her thoughts were followed by actions almost instantly, and she asked the first tutor that showed up to take her up the nearest tower.

So excited she was that she even endured his prattling about how the damn place had been built and what significance the drawings on the walls had. He droned on and on, all the way, but he did bring her to the tower.

There were windows, but Qamar did not feel like being separated from the wind and sky any longer. She pushed one open, and felt the air move around her. The tutor snapped her, but she did not listen. So close…

It took her but a moment to climb out through the window. She avoided her tutor's hands, as he tried to pull her back and dragged herself on the roof. The wind was strong and she had to bow down to walk, but was worth it. Finally, she was where she wanted to be. Finally, she was doing something she wanted. She ignored her tutor's angry rant coming from below—truthfully, she could barely make out his words. He was probably just complaining she was a wild brat, anyway. She had more important things to think about.

The air was thin at this height and chilled to the bone. Soon enough, the girl was both light-headed and shivering violently, but she did not stop trying to climb higher. Then, her leg slipped and she fell back. There was nothing to stop her fall, and she tumbled from the roof. The ash-pale face of her tutor flashed before her eyes, as the wind whistled in her ears.

In the last moments of her life, she wondered why it felt like the wind was taunting her.


	9. Broken Star - Siblings

**Broken Star - Siblings**

Serenity loved Horus. She really did. Her first 'brother' – not really brother, but the whole thing was complicated and it was close enough – was a very likeable, friendly, charming and nice person to have around. He also was very dedicated to his studies, and much more intelligent and diligent than she was. And this was annoying.

They didn't share many lessons, and those they did, Horus invariably aced, leaving her in the metaphorical dust. On the few occasions she took him up on his offers of recreational activities, it didn't work much better.

He could run faster and longer, climb higher, he even was a better rider, or pilot or whatever else they tried. Sure, her old playmates had been better at everything, too, but they had been older and they had not been her rivals. In a way, Horus was.

Not that he seemed to believe it. He was always nice and friendly to her, and he never seemed to attempt to instigate competitions between – it just always ended up that way. More than once, he asked her why she would do this to herself.

"Why are you trying to compete? We are friends, not rivals."

She couldn't really explain it. At least, not in terms that he – with his rational, logical mind – would understand.

Of course, the Emperor was at the bottom of the issue. Alone, in the dark in her own chambers, Serenity had to admit she was jealous. Jealous of Horus. That she considered him a rival for the affection of the Emperor, who had – until now – been her father, and her father alone. Now, she had a sibling, for all intents and purposes, and that sibling was everything she was not.

It grated on her. It was an itch she could not shake. Eventually, she became sullen and withdrawn. When Horus tried to draw her out, she pushed him away. But he never stopped trying and this was another point that rankled with her.

She didn't know who told the Emperor of her changed behaviour. Probably not Horus, but maybe one of her tutors?

One day, as she sat in her room, doodling on a piece of paper before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it for Yumi to catch, he came in. And he clearly was not amused.

"Serenity. Cease this foolishness at once."

She turned and swallowed, dropping her quill. It left an ink stain on the carpet.

"What am I doing?" she asked, with all the teenage obliviousness she could muster. "I'm just drawing."

"You know what I mean. You are skipping your studies, you are rude to Horus, and you are allowing your childish jealousy to eat away your common sense."

For a moment she considered denying it, but then it burst out of her. "It's only because you have replaced me! Horus is everything I'm not. You don't want me anymore. I'm silly, I'm weak and I'm a girl. You probably only used me to pass the time until you found your real sons!"

The Emperor shook his head. "Serenity." There was disappointment in his voice and for the first time she felt something of his age and the burden he bore leech out of his shields and lap against her empathic sense.

"I am not going to argue with you about this sort of idiocy. It is wrong and you know it, or would, if you spent time on actually thinking about it. Do not compare yourself Horus, your roles, your educations, your places in this Imperium are completely different. Stay in here, if you prefer to sulk, but know, that only if you follow this path you will ever disappoint me."

The girl was stunned. She spluttered something, and tried to form a coherent sentence, but her father was already gone. Finally, she curled up into a ball on the floor and wept.


	10. Broken Star - Brother

**Broken Star - Brother**

Serenity confused Horus. He was not sure what exactly she meant to him – he didn't dislike her that much was sure. But did he like her? Probably not. Sometimes, he would have preferred if she wasn't around, especially during lessons, when she looked daggers at him, or in their spare time, when she tried to outdo him in something and almost always failed.

Then, he felt helpless. He didn't know how to deal with her obvious frustration and jealousy. It was just so odd. And then Serenity started avoiding him completely. At first, it was an improvement.

Eventually, though, he began to miss her. She wasn't doing anything constructive, not really, but she brightened his life through her presence, something he took a while to realise. This was a rare gift, a very rare one…

Once he had realised this, it wasn't in his nature to leave that realisation to simmer. Instead, he went to look for Serenity and found her in the small apartment where Larissa Anemoi and her daughter lived.

His father had told him the little girl was the reincarnation of Qamar, the strange Cthonian girl that he had brought to Terra together with Horus himself. The concept seemed weird, but he understood the potential she had – beyond her abilities.

"I created you and your brothers to protect and expand the Imperium of Man – and then I saw how helpless I really was to keep you safe until you could fulfil your function. When you were taken, there were so many possibilities for you to be lost forever, or changed beyond recognition." At this point, his father had drawn him into one of his very rare embraces. "I could have lost you. Maybe I lost all of the others and I will never find them again."

But Qamar, through her death, had proven that it did not have to be this way. "Her essence was kept safe. Untouched. It got reborn. If only I could have kept you safe in a similar way…"

Despite all this, for now Kressida was just little baby, who resembled a pink beachball with sandy hair in various different bobble hats. Serenity, given her cooing and giggling seemed to find that utterly irresistible, which confused Horus to no end.

When he entered, the girl looked up. "Horus?" She was surprised – so far, he had shown no interest in Kressida.

"I need to talk to you."

Serenity stood up, holding Kressida, in her arms. "I just wanted to take her for a walk. Why don't you come with us?"

Horus almost stared; then his diplomatic bone reasserted itself: "Of course."


	11. Broken Star - Fragile

**Broken Star - Fragile**

They walked along one of the gravel paths in the Moonlight Garden, Serenity straining a little to push the pram with the sleeping Kressida over the silvery stones. Horus could have offered to help, but she'd have declined anyway. He could tell by the stubborn set of her shoulders and chin that she would rather collapse in exhaustion – which was a long way off, since the baby was not that heavy, after all – before she asked him for anything.

Her neck was flushed, and he saw the muscles in her back play as she tried to keep the carriage level. Maybe this wasn't the best way to use for such a walk, but Serenity seemed determined.

Finally, she stopped by an ornamental fountain filled with silver fish. They were quite large, almost as long as Horus' forearm, and some of them had a black dot on their forehead. Serenity activated the brakes on the carriage, sat down on the edge of the fountain and idly put one hand into the cool water.

"Koi", she said. "Breeding them is an ancient art. These ones, father bred for me. They remind me of something."

Horus remained standing and looked down on her. He rarely sat, unless it was socially required. Here, it would have been awkward, since he'd have to sit on the ground to be even remotely on her eye level. And sitting on the ground gave one a disadvantage. It was a gesture of submission that should be used only when necessary. He didn't judge it to be necessary now.

"Serenity…"

"Yes?" She looked up at him, her blue eyes full of emotion. He read hostility there, but it wasn't everything and the rest confused him. He was good at reading people, and at saying the right things. Obviously, not good enough yet. "Why do you do this?"

"What?" Now, there was also insolence and some passive-aggressive desire to wrongfoot him.

"Play games like this. Try to one-up me. So Father bred ornamental carp for you. They are beautiful. Enjoy them. Do you think you will make me envious that way?"

Serenity's foot twitched and he was pretty sure she only suppressed her impulse to kick him because it would only have hurt her foot, not him.

"You are younger than me. You are my little brother! Don't be more mature than me, and more reasonable and more everything. I hate that! You make me feel stupid and redundant!"

Horus sighed. "Who made this a competition? You are not me. Why do you think you have to be?"

Now she pushed her hand into the water and splashed him. How impulsive. At least she had taken care not to hit the baby with stray drops.

"Because Father made you. He wanted you. Not me. I'm an accident. I'm just a curiosity." Big tears began to drop from her eyes. "We found you. You are perfect. And what did I leave to be found? Qamar. Who was so stupid it got her killed! She was useless, and Kressida is only a baby and it will be years till she can do anything except fill diapers."

"Serenity." Horus wasn't aware he was mirroring his Father's tone pretty closely. "If Father didn't care for you, why do you think he made this garden for you? With beautiful fish who are probably extinct in the rest of the universe? Father loves you. Everybody loves you, even when you behave irrational like that."

He went down on one knee and lifted her chin with his hand. "See it this way. Father made me. To be of use to him. He took you in, he raised you, he spoiled you, without a purpose behind it. This is no competition for his affection. It has always been yours. It is me who had to earn it."

Eyes wide, Serenity stared. Then – somewhat carefully, so she'd not jostle the pram – she jumped at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. "I love you."


	12. Star Souls III

**Star Souls III**

It was somewhat annoying for an Apothecary to be at the mercy of his colleagues. At least, Caius Iras of the Luna Wolves was quite convinced that Apothecaries made the worst patients, ever. Which did not stop him from being exactly the same.

At least, they were back on Terra now, and he could tell his colleagues breathed a sigh of relief as he was transported from the Apothecarion of the _Challenger_ to the Legion's facilities on Luna itself, where he was scheduled to receive augmentic surgery.

Aside from being out of the care of his former apprentices, there was another advantage to being back, one he had never considered: he received visitors. First, about three days after his arrival, Horus came. His genefather, his Primarch. It was a singular honour to be singled out that way (until he learned that Horus did this for all legionnaires who were brought back injured).

It was also stunning to see how much his Primarch had changed from the scrawny kid they had picked up on Cthonia. He was the size of a Space Marine now and almost as broad, while still retaining the lankiness of youth that told Iras that Horus would keep growing. For a while. Now he began to understand why their ships had been built to such a giant scale that even armoured Space Marines easily fit through doors.

Aside from size, Horus radiated presence. And he gave Iras the feeling that he really cared about the three quarters of an Apothecary the Luna Wolf had been reduced to after a run in with a greenskin dreadnought.

"They will make you whole again, don't worry. Your fighting days aren't done yet." Horus gently squeezed his remaining hand and smiled, and Iras would have taken on the crude mechanical monstrosity again, anytime, just because of that smile, that concern, that confidence. He had to turn his face away to hide his tears.

This wasn't the only visit, though. About a week after principal surgery had begun the Princess came, too. And she brought someone else, a little girl, maybe three years old.

"Apothecary Iras. I hope you are reasonably well?"

He nodded, while trying to find his voice and puzzling out how the Princess managed to be dazzling like the Primarch, only in a totally different way… Calm, where he was encouraging, soft, where he was reassuring. She laid a slender hand on his arm, a cool touch on his feverish skin.

"I've brought a surprise." She lifted the girl and placed her on a chair beside his slab. Iras had an impression of sandy hair, large blue eyes and an angular face that was lacking the softness of childhood even at this young age, before the girl gasped and hid her face in Serenity's dress.

"Kressida, what is the matter? I told you, we are going to visit a friend…" But the girl began to whimper and couldn't be soothed.

"You better leave, your Highness", croaked Iras. "This isn't a place for a child."

The Princess looked like she wanted to refuse, then – clearly overwhelmed – mumbled a short farewell and ran from the room, leaving behind a confused Apothecary.

* * *

It was a rather subdued Serenity who visited her Father's study this evening. He was playing Regicide with Horus – with three different boards in a three dimensional array to keep it amusing – and seemed surprised to see her.

"Serenity. I did no expect you back so soon."

"I'm afraid I was stupid again." She blushed, still rather reluctant to admit to mistakes in the presence of her 'brother', but somewhat more comfortable with him now.

"Horus? Will you excuse us for a moment?"

"Of course, Father." The Primarch got up and left, but threw Serenity an encouraging smile as he ducked out the door. This was one of the oldest wings of the Palace and it had not entirely been built Primarch-compatible.

Serenity gave a little wave, before she went forward to stand in front of her father. Imperceptibly, his aspect changed and she faced the smiling, somewhat nondescript man with the golden eyes that he became when he had no reason to dazzle his vis-à-vis.

"Take a seat."

She perched on the edge of Horus' chair, aware that her every gesture gave away her jumpiness.

"I visited Iras today. I took Kressida, because Qamar had been his friend. But she… she just cried and cried and cried. I had to take her back. Now I feel rotten. I distressed her and I probably disappointed and insulted Iras by running out on him like that."

The Emperor sighed. "You were impulsive again."

Meekly, Serenity nodded. "I thought I'd find out if she will remember when she sees someone Qamar liked. Well, as much as Qamar liked anyone. Only, she didn't. Or, she was frightened by all the Space Marines…"

"Serenity." Her father leaned over and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I told you. There are no memories of Qamar in Kressida's mind. And just because they look somewhat similar that's no guarantee of them being the same. Or even similar people. What a person is, is not entirely determined at birth. A lot of it is the result of upbringing, environment and even some spontaneous genetic expressions."

The girl lowered her head, her eyes burning. "Yeah, you said it. I just thought… Well, you can't find my memories, either, and yet somehow, there is something. And it comes up when I encounter new things. So, maybe it would be the same with Kressida."

"I see." Her father looked thoughtful now. "There is a difference, though. While you lost your memories, you were not reduced to your soul crystal. You did not leave your body behind. You were damaged, but you did not die. And even your memories are hardly worth that name. Accept it, Qamar is gone. Kressida is not her, and, as she grows up on Terra, in a civilised place, where she does not have to fight for her life, she will never be Qamar, either."

He placed a handkerchief in her hand that he had not had the moment before. It smelled of jasmine and rosemary. "Dry your tears. Look to the future, not the past. And do not worry about the Apothecary – Horus will explain things to him."

Serenity wiped her eyes. "Yes, Father."

* * *

**AN**: I don't want to sound whiny, but I'm not sure if I see the point of posting more of this story on , since it gets almost zero feedback. So, I have no clue if anybody likes it or if there's anything that could be improved... I'll probably make one or two more update to make sure I'm not being pre-mature, but if I still get no reviews, I guess I will stop posting.


	13. Star Souls IV

**Star Souls IV**

The Emperor had resigned himself to being unable to seriously progress with his research until either Kressida was finally old enough to be able to use her powers, or until he found a new crystal bearer who could bring some more light into the mystery of those 'star seeds'.

He did not think there was anything more he could learn from Serenity, not without risking her. And he was not willing to do that, since her memories, buried and shattered as they were, were his only link to this phenomenon… and his only source of information.

And then something happened that changed his outlook radically. He returned to Terra from the Crusade – Serenity had not gone with him this time. Her guilt over Qamar and her fate prompted her to rarely leave Kressida's side and since she had gotten over her crippling jealousy of Horus, she no longer minded him accompanying the Emperor alone.

Dispensing with formal celebrations, he simply teleported down from his flagship and went in search of his adoptive daughter. Her mind was growing ever brighter, already shining like a beacon. One day, this ability might help him perfect the Astronomican… But that was for another time. Nobody saw him moving to the palace - he did not intend to publicise his visit, yet. Sometimes even he wanted to have privacy...

For a moment, he stopped outside Serenity's quarters, trying to discern what she was doing. He felt her amusement, enthusiastic and giggly, and, in answer, Kressida's weaker, dimmer, sharper presence, concentrated on some task. Faintly, in the background, he also felt the cat, and it seemed to be spooked.

Now curious, he entered. Serenity and the girl sat on the floor, playing with blocks. They were building some sort of Palace, he noted, before Serenity saw him and flew into his arms, while Kressida merely gave him a look and turned back to their work.

Greeting his daughter – and looking like he was paying absolute attention to her – he was actually riveted to the other girl's doings, because she stood on tiptoe, to place a last stone on the highest tower of their silver, almost confectionary looking design… A shining crystal shaped like a flower.

It cost him quite a lot of effort not to yell and snatch it up. A new experience, he had not panicked for more than two dozen millennia… "Serenity, what are you doing?"

* * *

Serenity frowned. "Well, it's not like it can be harmed. And, since you were so insistent on Qamar trying to manifest her star seed, I thought it might help to familiarise Kressida with the concept…"

They were down, in the bowels of the Palace, inside the massive lab where her father had shown her the Primarchs' gestation tanks. The place and its abandoned air gave her the creeps now, even though they were in a different room of the complex.

The Emperor – still in his golden armour – was pacing. "And, did it work?"

There was no acknowledgement of her consideration. Serenity would have felt frustrated, had he not been so clearly disturbed and upset. He hadn't even donned a civilian guise or anything, as he normally did when he spoke to her.

"Kressida is much too young to use her powers. She does feel the crystal is special, though, and she asked me if she has one, too."

"What did you tell her?"

"Yes. She has one. And when she is older, she will learn to call it." The Princess wiped the dust off a console and perched on the corner. She still did not understand why her father was so … for lack of a better term, freaked out. After all, he had seen her handle the crystal… No. She just realised it. He had never seen her handle it like a physical object. Never mind someone else.

She had called the crystal and shown it to him, but he had only ever seen it hover in the air.

"Father. Look." It manifested in the air, and she let it drop into her hand and held it out to him. "It is a physical object. I can call it back anytime, but while it's here, it is real. Not an illusion or a projection."

Slowly, the Emperor reached for it, finally making his armour disappear. He was hesitant, as he touched the silver flower with a finger and then closed his hand around hers.

"I should not expect you or your abilities to ever make sense. It seems wherever you came from has its own rules – and you brought them with you." His eyes, golden and guileless fixed her with their penetrating gaze. "What are you, Serenity? Where do you come from?"

It was a rhetorical question. They had covered that often enough, so she merely remained silent, watching him.

Her empathic abilities had never worked on him – she felt him, but she couldn't read him. Everybody else, even Malcador, Horus or the Custodians had some sort of distinct presence, to them, a shape, a flavour, a colour that allowed to identify them. Her father did not. He was light, but it was featureless, colourless light. He wasn't human, but he wasn't anything else either. She couldn't have picked him out of a crowd.

She didn't know why she still tried… The light remained featureless, as always. Indistinct. But she felt something, felt as he was calling his power… She had never felt that before. He was always using it, all the time, and normally it was hidden from her. Now it wasn't.

"Tell me if you feel in the least uncomfortable. Tell me if you feel anything."

"What are you doing?" She asked… And then she knew. She felt his power flow into her star seed, probing it.

"Call it back."

She tried. Tried to return it to the ephemeral state where it rested within her breast. And found she couldn't. Something was holding it back.

"Father! What are you doing? Stop! You are frightening me."

* * *

It didn't hurt. It didn't weaken her, or make her feel different. That wasn't the problem. It was like a part of her suddenly ceased to respond, like your foot going numb.

Before she could panic, her father released his grip and the crystal vanished. She fell to her knees and began to cry.

It took a while for Serenity to calm down. The Emperor profusely apologised to her for frightening her and held her close while she sobbed into his robe. Finally, she regained control of herself sufficiently to answer his questions.

"I don't know why this spooked me so much. No, you didn't hurt me. It was like... like something got dredged up from the depths of my mind, and understanding that the star seed could be taken from me and that it would kill me."

Wiping her face with her sleeve, she raised a hand to forestall further questions. "No, I don't know how this could be done. I just know that sometime, sometime before... it happened. Somebody tried it on me and that's why it frightened me so much to lose control of it."

The Emperor asked a few more questions, but as always, her memory remained incredibly vague. He also had no idea how one could take a star seed – while he had managed to imprison it, there was no way to cut the thread between the girl and the crystal. He couldn't even sense it. He also couldn't discern the star seed when it was not manifested, only at the moment when it left a body, be that by being manifested or during the death of the host.

Serenity was still shaken quite badly, so he refrained from asking her if they could continue to experiment. What he had learned was already food for thought. Instead, he decided to cheer her up.

"Is there a name for people who carry a star seed?" he asked. "For now, we only know of you and Kressida, but there were a lot of those crystals when you came and I'm sure we will find more of your kind eventually."

"Hm." She screwed up her face in that special way she used when she was thinking hard – as always, it made him smile inside. More than ever, he appreciated what she was, beyond a source of power as great as his own. She was a living, breathing reminder of the reason why he even fought.

It was so easy to see 'humanity' as a faceless, shapeless mass, and forget the individual human being. Serenity was like all of humanity, good and bad sides, crammed into one charming, innocent package, speaking to his heart even when he had forgotten it existed.

"I don't remember. I'm sure we had a name for that."

"Well, if you can't remember, why don't you pick one?"

Predictably, that made her eyes lighten up again. "May I? But if it is the wrong one?"

"Who will care? Whatever name there was for you, likely somebody chose it at some point. This is a new beginning for all of you. Choose a new name. You aren't what you were before."

While Serenity kept on her thoughtful face, the Emperor placed a hand on her shoulder and led her from the lab. It was time he made his official entrance into the palace.

And it was also about time he chose some other experts to help him with this project...

* * *

**AN: **First of all, thank you to all who have reviewed. I'm sorry if it came off like I'm fishing for reviews-what you said was very interesting, since I sincerely hadn't thought length might be such an issue. So, I'm going to ask you to help me out a bit more and tell me if this is the length you'd want me to aim at or if this is still to short.

**AN2: **Started a new origin story for a Primarch and Senshi pair. You can read it in s/8993147/1/Lovehammer-GE-Primarch-Origins.


	14. Star Souls V

**Star Souls VIII**

"What am I?" asked Serenity, her face thoughtful.

The Sigillite looked up from his dataslate and eyed her over its rim. It was rare for the Princess to show up in his study. Not that she was barred from entering it, but she seemed to abhor what the word implied and avoided it as much as she could. If she wanted to talk to him (which was rare enough), she accosted him in one of the corridors.

Now, though, she had braved the lion's den and looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and ... confusion. Well, he was willing to help, but first he needed a translation for this question.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, Father said I should pick a name for... for what I and Kressida are. For people who have star seed souls. I mean, people who have powers are usually called psykers, but we aren't psykers. What are we?"

Malcador smiled. He had been wondering when the Emperor's research into the star seeds would reach the point where it needed a specific terminology – it had taken much longer than he thought. "I have given the matter some consideration in the past. I suggested to call you 'Seed Bearers', which was not met with approval."

At hearing this, Serenity dissolved into giggles. "I would hope not. That sounds like... something dirty."

This reaction was remarkably close to that of his then secretary, and Malcador put on a scowl. "Pubescent minds see dirty things everywhere."

Her giggles intensified. "No, thanks. Really, that's not... what I envisioned. Actually, I had an idea. But it doesn't sound that great, and I hoped you could help me."

The Sigillite leaned back behind his desk and steepled his hands on the desk. "The let me hear."

"Well, I don't really remember what we were called... before. But I have this dim memory of us being... warriors, bound to protect something specific. Don't know what, though. So, I thought, Warrior, or Guardian or something. Only, there's millions of warriors and guardians in the Imperium and a lot of them are even called that way. So, maybe you can help me translate it? Into some other language?"

Now, Malcador shot her another icy glare. "Young lady, you have had lessons in High Gothic for many years now. You have free access to several libraries rivalling the size of cities. And you come to me? You could have looked something up."

"Sure..." She looked down and shuffled her feet. "But this is faster. I don't want to let Father wait for so long."

He sighed. "Very well." He ran through several High Gothic, ancient Merican and ancient Grecian words for Warrior or Guardian and found a problem. "Qamar, Kressida and you, you are female. Will all the other seed bearers" he ignored her giggle "also be female? Or will we meet some young men with star souls, too?"

As her giggles subsided, the Princess grew thoughtful again. "I don't know. I think. But it might be different here? Still, I guess most will probably be girls."

That made it easier. "Well, there is a word in high gothic. It means female warrior, and it is a word where the male version is almost never used. As far as I know, no unit, army regiment or other planetary force uses it at the moment, although there might be a navy ship of that name or two."

"I'm not a ship."

"I didn't imply you are. Only that there is no chance of confusion." Malcador gave a dry chuckle at Serenity's offended expression. "The term is Bellatrix. The genitive is Bellatricis, the plural Bellatrices. What do you think?"

"Hm." She let the word roll off her tongue. "Bell-a-trix. Nice. I like it." She beamed at him. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Malcador took up the dataslate again. "And now..." 'run off' he had wanted to say, but found she had already done it. With a sigh and a slight push of telekinetic energy, he closed the door.

Bellatrix. Why not? It certainly did beat Seed Bearer, although he found Star Soul quite catchy, too.

* * *

**AN: **A quick and short update: the Galaxy is saved from being protected by Rainbow Sparkle Warriors. :P

Anyway, this chapter is quite short, I know, but that's because there's a new Primarch and Senshi (or Bellatrix, now) origin story up. Just go to Lovehammer GE: Primarch Origins ( www. fanfiction s/8993147/4/Lovehammer-GE-Primarch-Origins) and read on there. :) (And remember to remove the spaces from the link. ;) )


	15. Star Souls VI

**AN: **This happens after www . fanfiction s / 8993147 / 12 / Lovehammer-GE-Primarch-Origins if you hadn't read it yet, please do.

* * *

**Star Souls VI**

Terra was nothing like Fenris. That trite statement somehow encompassed all that Thorgerd felt: the awe at seeing the Imperial Palace, the unfamiliarity of a world where wild beasts were things of ages past, and the mounting confusion at just how different everything was.

Now that Leman was conferring with his sire in one of the towers of the Palace, she was attracting a lot of curious glances. Clad in her new armour, a cloak made of bear's fur over her shoulders, she cut an imposing figure, unlike the scuttling administrators and courtiers in colourful dresses.

"How do you like Terra?" Serenity asked, as she approached. She looked much more at ease clad in a surprisingly simple white gown—a cut that Thorgerd had noticed a number of women emulated.

"It seems a bit boring," she replied doing her best to act nonchalant.

Serenity arched her eyebrows quizzically, but before she could respond a man in the robes of an administrator chuckled drily. "Some people prefer safe to exciting."

"This is Malcador, the Sigillite," Serenity said with a smile. "He's one of Father's closest advisors, and part of the research project that is trying to learn more about such as we."

"What is there to learn?" Thorgerd asked, shrugging. "I can call upon thunder and that's all there is to it."

To her surprise Serenity giggled softly. The Sigillite sighed heavily. "I believe we should discuss this in private," he said, sounding weary.

Thorgerd studied him thoughtfully—such a non-threatening figure, but there was something about him that made her wonder. A powerless man did not take such a tone with the heir of his lord… Her gaze lingered at him for a mere moment, but it was long enough for him to meet her eyes with his own stare.

It was calm and steady, like the look of an ancient hunter who knows too many tricks to be killed.

* * *

Thorgerd took the revelation that Serenity could manifest her soul as a crystal with surprising aplomb. Finding out that her own soul was the same seemed to faze her very little as well. Perhaps the upbringing on a feral world had allowed her accept such news without perturbation.

"Well, it's pretty, I'll grant you that," Thorgerd said, examining the crystalline silver bloom in Serenity's hand. "It'd make a handsome prize for any warrior. But does this serve any practical purpose?"

It was Malcador who answered. "It allowed us to study them."

"And did you learn anything useful?" Thorgerd asked.

The Sigillite's eyebrows rose—Serenity suspected it was not because of Thorgerd's bluntness, but rather because he was trying to figure out why neither she nor her father had explained this to the Stormqueen of Fenris yet.

"A number of things," he replied finally, seating himself more comfortably. "If you die, your soul will find a new host. The person won't be you anymore, but they will have the same powers."

Thorgerd frowned slightly, but nodded. She seemed to be considering the consequences of what Malcador was telling her. "And there are people who are not like us and whose powers are worth preserving…"

"Indeed," Malcador agreed. "It is in an interesting possibility to consider, is it not?"

* * *

Serenity couldn't help it. She felt hopelessly outclassed as she watched the Fenrisian Queen demonstrate her power.

"And if I live to be a hundred years old, I'll never be that awesome", she confided to Kressida at a whisper, while they stood in a viewing booth above a training area normally used by the Legiones Astartes.

The girl shook her head. "That's stupid. All she's good at is ruining stuff. Everybody can ruin stuff. You can heal and raise dead and make things drop dead by looking at them. That's awesome."

"I can't raise dead. I just cheat death for a bit", Serenity corrected, her voice soft. "And I hate it. Besides, just look at her. How she wields that hammer, like it weighs nothing. Or how her lightning is alive. That is awesome. She's like, like some sort of pagan goddess."

Kressida heaved an exaggerated sigh. "If she's a goddess, then you are an angel. One of those who shine and cure ills with a touch. The Emperor created hundreds of thousands of beings who are awesome at destruction. That's not special."

"She is right, your highness." That was Atharva's velvet baritone. They both flinched, unaware he had joined them in the viewing box.

Serenity blushed. She still couldn't look at the psyker without turning into an awkward teenager. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice.

"You are a beacon of light and hope. This Imperium has no shortage of warriors. It only has one of you."

"Thank you", she murmured, looking away. They were silent, watching the spectacle beneath them, where Thorgerd just grinned like a youth being given a nameday present as she wielded a Thunderhammer for the first time. In a way, it made Serenity feel better. It showed the Fenrisian Queen wasn't that aloof, after all.

"And what do you think of her, Atharva? You did work with her, didn't you?"

The big Space Marine frowned. "Yes, I did. Unlike you and Kressida, she has fully grown into her abilities. She did manage to manifest her crystal, too."

"What colour is it?" Kressida blurted out.

"Green. Like leaves in August."

"That's poetic." Serenity smiled.

The Space Marine's mouth twitched a little. "It is true."

Had she almost made him smile? With flashes playing over his features as he watched Thorgerd armour herself in lightning, she couldn't tell. Impulsively, she reached out and laid her hand on his arm, where it looked like a child's. "Don't take my self-pity seriously."

Now he really did smile. "You are the Princess. I could never discount your sentiments. Besides, it would be impolite."

Behind them, Kressida burst into giggles.

* * *

Thorgerd did not fit into any existing definition Serenity had for others. She was effectively a class of her own, unlike the soldiers, the Sisters of Silence and anyone else she had known. Like her powers, her mere presence demanded respect. She did not need any tricks to attract attention—she commandeered it by simply being there. It was hard not to admire her, though Serenity had to admit her admiration had its limits. She was awed by the Stormqueen's battle prowess and the skill with which she wielded her thunder, but in personal contact the other woman was difficult.

"I still don't understand why we'd need weaklings who had never raised a sword to negotiate," she growled. "Anyone can accept surrender."

Softly, Serenity sighed. Sometimes, one was inclined to forget just how many of the truths she accepted as self-evident were in fact trappings of culture and the effect of ages of progress. Take it away, and humanity saw no difference between compliance and conquest.

"But not everyone can negotiate peace," Serenity replied, but her sentiment found no understanding. Instead, Thorgerd frowned.

"No, of course not," she said, but it did not sound like she was agreeing with Serenity's point at all. "I would not let a warrior or a thrall do the work of a jarl—but we do have jarls. They lead, and they negotiate—that's how we do it on Fenris. Why change it, if it works?"

Serenity shook her head. "Because we know that it will not work on every world. Once a society reaches a certain level of sophistication there's simply too many details for one person to keep track of. One needs experts." That only deepened Thorgerd's frown, but Serenity was not about to give up that easily. "Some of the treaties Father has signed during the Unification are on display right now. I could show you one of them—you'll see what I mean."

She briskly turned around and led the Fenrisian towards another section of the Palace. It was by no means a short trip and Serenity stopped a few times to point out the more interesting sights, but eventually they did reach the area that was serving as a temporary museum for the Unification. Its contents were no mystery to Serenity: she knew the armour of the Thunder Warriors, the old torn flags of states long gone and the picts taken at the various stages of the fight to bring Terra back from the age of techno-barbarism.

She led Thorgerd past several small clusters of gasping people, and stopped abruptly before her goal. She whirled around, the skirt of her long dress dancing around her feet, coming to face Thorgerd.

"Did we ever think to teach you to read High Gothic?" she asked.

Mutely, Thorgerd shook her head. Serenity took a moment to consider this—why hadn't they thought about it? Something would have to be done, but later. For now another, quicker solution was needed. "Let me read it for you, then."

Thorgerd nodded, a frown creasing her forehead again. For a moment, Serenity wondered if there was any way to handle this better, but she quickly decided it had no point. Instead, she started reading, point after point, after point. She did not leave anything out, though she did stop to clarify when asked—Thorgerd had asked about matters of education, why it was mentioned at all, how children would be taught; and many other details.

Then, the Fenrisian exhaled and simply watched the screen, apparently deep in thought.

"I think… I see what you mean," Thorgerd finally said. "It would have never occurred to me to raise those points and if somebody did that, I wouldn't know what would be the right outcome…"

Serenity placed her hand on Thorgerd's shoulder, and smiled encouragingly. "And this is why we need diplomats. They are taught to think of all those things."

Thorgerd shook her head. "But I won't know if they forget something, will I?"

Serenity considered the Fenrisian's point. She had not thought of this, but that was a valid consideration. Still, it was not an insurmountable obstacle. This difficulty could be overcome. "I won't say you can learn all of it, but I'm certain you will master a significant part. It will just need time."

Thorgerd flashed her a surprised smile, and then turned contemplative again. "There is a way to teach a person a great deal in a short time, isn't there? Bulveye and Alvar had knowledge… transferred into their minds."

Serenity's expression turned sombre. "It's painful and risky for unaugmented humans. If it's used on one, it's because we need to make sure they're trustworthy. It doesn't just teach you how to operate your armour or write—it's meant to shape one's thoughts."

Thorgerd fell silent for a moment. "I will have to trust you, then."

* * *

**AN**

To the anonymous reviewer: first of all, thank you for the review. I'm still trying to find the optimal length for a chapter (that is one that won't annoy the hell out of me for being too long, and won't feel too short). It's a tricky thing. ;)


	16. Star Souls VII

**Star Souls VII**

Alvar Bulveyeson had not been a Space Marine very long. He had not been anything for very long, although he didn't really know how old he was, exactly. It seemed like years were counted in different ways on other planets. For all his years were few, he had seen quite a lot.

Glaciers calving, hvaluri migrating, volcanoes spitting flames. A mountain higher than the sky, wrapped in velvet black studded with stars. Fleets of longships riding the grey and white sees like flocks of birds. Blood on the snow when the raiders came.

Later, when the Allfather had come to Fenris, all those sights paled. The colours seemed muted and pale now, the sounds in his memory subdued and flat. Becoming one of the Rout had done that to him, sharpened his senses, strengthened his body. Filled his head with words and knowledge so far beyond all he had ever known as the Stormqueen's son that his past life dwindled to a dreamlike haze in his mind. Instead, he learned new things and forged new memories.

He wore the grey armour of Russ, and his mother's sigil (a wolf spitting lightning) on his chest. He had not wanted to be special, but he was. Son of the Bellatrix and the Jarl of the 13th. It made him unique. Only on the journey to Terra when the spindly Adepts in their red robes poked and prodded him (until he took some of them apart only to find they leaked oil and fluid instead of blood) he learned that there had been a handful like him, children sired by fathers who lived on to become Space Marines. None of those fathers had ever known of their sons. Only the adepts who decoded the genes of all who accepted the geneseed knew.

For the entire journey back, he was isolated. Where the other Vlyka ran with their packs, he was alone. He had never seen his father again, only his mother, but he had been too old to crawl underneath a woman's skirts even when he had been human. He didn't know why they had carted him to Terra like some prize loot. He did know it made him angry.

He'd often been angry back on Fenris, living in the shadow of a mother, a father and an uncle who had crawled from myth to show him how inadequate he was... That he was his mother's only living child had not helped. So much to live up to. And seemingly, that had not lessened even now.

There was a dull memory of the Allfather talking to him before the Priests wrought the change on him, but it was as pale as all his human remembrances and he could not recall what he had said, only how bright he had been and how big. Likely that had been the moment when his fate had been decided. And this fate was 'pincushion'.

He growled and bared his fangs, and with satisfaction watched the Adepts shrink away. Even on Terra they would not leave him alone, and he was more than willing to take more punishment rituals and days in the brig if that made them back off. He hated the noises their artificial bodies made and the smell of chemicals and pollution that bit into his sensitive nose. The way their voices chittered and whined in his ears, unintelligible but stinging, he detested even more. "LEAVE ME ALONE."

Then, the laboratory door opened smoothly, and the adepts deferentially bowed to the person who came in.

Alvar glared at the new arrival. For a moment the realisation that his visitor was another Space Marine almost made him relax – then the other's scent reached him, the smell of sun-baked sand, like a sea of scorched gold, musty tomes of forbidden lore and secrets hidden in ancient tombs, and he realised that he would detest him even more than the Adepts.

* * *

The young Space Wolf was very agitated, Atharva noticed immediately. He growled under his breath and showed those lengthened canines that seemed to be part of the geneseed of the VI Legion.

"Be calm, brother. I am not here to harm you."

It was the wrong thing to say. Immediately, those strange golden eyes narrowed, the pupils contracting to pinpoint size. Muscles bunched, as the Space Marine prepared to leap.

'Little impulse control', Atharva noted, as he raised his hands in a placatory gesture. "I did not intend to slight you. Please calm down."

"You implied I was afraid. Of a little pain."

So prickly. So young. The older Space Marine swallowed a sigh and stepped back. To explain how agitated Alvar looked and felt would just fan the flames. Of course he had read all the reports, and had – naively maybe – assumed it was just the strangeness of the Mechanicum in comparison to the primitive world where the boy had grown up that made him so... uncooperative. Now, he had to revise this hypothesis, since dealing with a fellow Space Marine did not put him at ease.

"Bear with me for a moment. It will not take long and then I will leave you alone if that is your wish."

Alvar spat. "As if anybody cares what I want. Why make me a warrior from the sky when all they want to use me for is as a pincushion?"

Talk was clearly useless. Atharva allowed the young warrior to rant, and focussed on the great ocean around the furious boy. Reading its eddies and peaks, the flow of time and causality was his specialty, and the reason why the Emperor had brought him into this group. It was easier if his target cooperated, as he didn't have to bull through emotional interference then. But it was not necessary.

Back on Fenris, the Emperor had been thrilled to encounter the child of a Bellatrix, as he had hoped to answer a question that had been looming on the horizon since their discovery: Was it possible to create more of those soul crystals? Their scrying had been inconclusive, but it had seemed doubtful. Alvar had proven that the crystals were not an inheritable characteristic. Turning him into a Space Marine had ensured he would be alive to be studied – something he clearly objected to, strongly.

All that was left to know was to find out if there was a difference between Alvar's spirit and that of a normal person, and if his nature was something that was a certain outcome, or an accident.

Threads of fate bunched around the youth, as he noticed that Atharva was not listening. A few possible outcomes to this, but only one seemed likely. Atharva raised a hand and caught the Space Wolf's fist, riding the power of his punch and forced him to crash into the wall.

"If you don't want to be treated like your opinion is immaterial, don't behave in a way that makes it so", the older man said, calmly, as he forced the other to his knees, immobilising him with a simple choke hold. "And don't pick fights with people who are not your enemies."

As Atharva could still see any moves Alvar was going to make, it cost him little effort to counter them and complete his examination.

No, there had been no chance for the boy to ever inherit a star seed. The very nature of the universe and the way souls were created made it impossible.

The psyker let his captive go and evaded another punch, then he left the room, no longer bothering to hide his sigh.

* * *

**AN**

To the anonymous reviewer: I don't think I will manage 5k words for one chapter. I understand that you may feel that I am disregarding your advice, but this is not the case-I'm just aware that if I don't post a chapter at least once a week, I will forget completely that I was meant to post anything. And there is no way that I can manage 5000 words in a week. I'd rather not get caught writing fanfic at work.

Besides, all that I post here, has been already posted on Space Battles, in even smaller daily updates. I'd have to basically turn around my whole posting schedule to maybe get around 5000 words and then I'd be risking I'll forget to update and losing readers on Space Battles who do expect a daily update.


	17. Unforgiven

**Unforgiven**

Ezykele Abaddon was a man of action, as trite as it sounded. All Astartes were bred for war, but he was one of those that lived for it. He would not sit back idly, if there was something to be done.

Unless he was ordered to.

The Vengeful Spirit rested in orbit, her guns cold. The Legion was tense, waiting to be unleashed, but no order came. Horus had locked himself in his chambers as soon as he had returned from the surface.

He had returned alone, although…

Abaddon frowned. He knew Horus and could read him—he knew when his Primarch had been expecting something, and before he had gone to the surface of the planet, he had been hopeful. When he had returned that hope had been extinguished, and from what he had managed to glimpse, the Primarch was in the darkest of moods.

Then, there was the Princess. She had gone down there with Horus, but only returned much later. She had never looked so much like the daughter of the Emperor as back then: a figure of silver and marble, cold and unapproachable.

Abaddon thought he had glimpsed a small crystal in her hand, but he did not understand why she would take a trinket from the planet. He had too many questions, and no answers.

For a moment, he considered simply barging into Horus's chambers and demanding answers, but then he thought better of that. Though he chafed at the lack of action, he could not help but to remember how oppressive it had felt to be in Horus's presence after he had returned.

"Ezykele?" he heard Tarik ask. Torgaddon did not sound like himself: not boisterous, but uneasy and worried. "The Princess has summoned the Wolves of Fenris."

Abaddon looked out through the view-port. Beneath them, the planet spun. He could see bright clusters of light, denoting settlements of differing size that dotted the surface. Billions of people were still living peaceful, little lives down there. There had been no aggression, and all signs had pointed to them eventually joining the Imperium.

What had changed?

* * *

"He's dead," Horus said flatly.

Serenity had never seen him so… lifeless. His vitality seemed to have been drained from him, leaving him a shell of what he had been. She wondered if she had been right to leave him with the other. Had there been another choice she could have made, though?

"So are they," she said, opening her palm. Two crystals, one dark olive green, the other a deep sanguine, floated over it.

"No," Horus replied bitterly. "They will only be dead once those are destroyed."

He reached out, and swept the crystals into his massive palm. Serenity did not stop him: she could keep them anchored to her regardless of who was holding him. Silently, she watched him close his fingers around them, in an attempt to crush them.

Then he opened his fist, and dropped his hand, letting the crystals tumble out. They were unblemished. Even his strength could not destroy them.

She took his giant hand into her own. "It won't bring him back."

Horus sighed, lowering his head. She heard hold his breath for a moment, and then a sob. "I know," he said, his voice broken. "It was… All that could be done."

Without a word, she stood on tiptoe and brushed her hand against his cheek. She'd never be able to properly embrace him, but she still did her best. "Sometimes, we can only make sure that a calamity is never repeated," she said softly.

* * *

A civilization ended, brought low not by xenos, not by their own internal strife, but by the military might of the newly-born Imperium of Mankind. The Wolves of Fenris had been thorough: there would be no ashes from which a phoenix could be reborn.

The Master of Mankind watched the planet below. The last fires of war had burned out, leaving it quiet. As tranquil as a tomb. Under the glamour, his lips curved into a grim smile: there was a certain poetry in what had transpired. It would not bring the one that had been lost back, but like the ancient kings Sumer, he would not go into the dark alone.

The Emperor felt her enter; her presence subdued, and he turned around. The vicious, bitter smile was gone from his lips by the time he faced the woman he called daughter.

"We could not help him," she said softly. "It was too late."

"Even for such as us, there are circumstances beyond our control," the Emperor answered.

Slowly, Serenity nodded. "You should speak with Horus. He needs your reassurance, Father."

There was more behind her words, an unsaid doubt. It was not only Horus who was troubled—he could see that what had happened was affecting her, and yet, though she was troubled and upset, she was shouldering the burden.

She had grown.

"I will," he replied.

Then, she reached out. Above her palm two crystals hovered: one was a deep olive green, the other a bright arterial red. "Take them, Father. I do not want them."

He watched the hovering Star Seeds in disbelief. He thought of the potential hidden in the seemingly fragile objects, of how much further his research could progress, but before he applied his attention fully to those possibilities, there was one question he needed to ask.

"How?"

They were floating over Serenity's palm, glittering softly.

"I knew that once their bearers would die, the seeds would escape," Serenity replied. "Their planet was going to die. The seeds would be lost in the galaxy, and we'd never find them. They could become monsters again, and I could not let this happen. They had caused enough harm already…"

She paused, turning her gaze towards the view-port.

"I sensed them, when the bearers died," she continued. "You practiced trapping a Star Seed with my Silver Crystal, and I did the same to those. I anchored them, bound them to myself."

Only then did the Emperor take the Star Seeds. He reached out with his hand and power, trapping them as he had done before with Serenity's crystal. For a moment, he watched them glow in silence.

"Thank you."

* * *

From how urgent Serenity had sounded, when she had asked him to speak to Horus, he had almost expected to see his son completely break down. Instead, the Emperor only found him melancholy. Perhaps the worst had already passed—perhaps it had been Serenity who had witnessed it and soothed him.

"They seemed so… human," he said, sounding tired. "So much like the crew of the Vengeful Spirit, or Malcador's scribes and administrators."

The Emperor did not say anything. He placed his hand on Horus's shoulder, and let him speak.

"And then we found him… " Horus continued. "He didn't want to live, he'd given up, completely. Even when we were there, when we offered alternatives, he wanted nothing else. I didn't think it was possible. That… that we could reach the point where the fire has been extinguished, and there was nothing I could do to rekindle it… He died in my arms."

He paused. There was tension in his stance, but only now did it start to show. He flexed his hands, balling them into fists.

"Is humanity really worth protecting, if they can become such monsters?" Horus asked.

Losing one's illusions always hurt. A parent might try to shield their child from that pain, or try to warn them that one day it would come, but in the end, it was something one had to come to terms with on their own.

Sometimes, though, a parent could help.

"Yes," the Emperor answered. "Humanity is capable of greatness, but sometimes this becomes great evil, when it's twisted by ignorance and fear, by ambition or unfettered desire. This is why we need to protect them—so that we can teach them to know better."

Horus nodded, and turned to face the Emperor. No, he did not look like he was breaking. The burden would be heavy, but not too much for him to bear—Horus was made of sterner stuff.

"Sometimes, we can only make sure a calamity is never repeated," he said softly, and the Emperor wondered if he was quoting somebody else.

* * *

Thorgerd stood beside the massive form of her brother. The two wolves that had been Freki and Geri cowered behind them, unable to look at the Master of Mankind before them.

The planet had been pacified, but there was one last thing that needed to be done: all that could have been salvaged of the XI Legion had been brought to safety, and what was left could not be allowed to fester.

"You will not speak of what you know," the Emperor said, his voice oddly soft. He looked strangely… dual in her eyes: the golden regal giant, cold and distant, and another man, more human, weary and… gone, before she could take a closer look. "And neither of you will make mention of what you suspect."

"By your command," Thorgerd and Leman echoed.


	18. Unforgiven II

**Unforgiven II**

According to the internal chrono of his armour, Nathaniel Tor had stopped responding to external stimuli exactly twenty seven hours, forty minutes and thirty seconds after Horus and Serenity had made planetfall. He had been in the middle of a combat drill, along with his squad, all of them similarly afflicted.

His massive body was resting immobile on a simple bed, attached to a myriad of medical devices that measured his vital signs. Had his eyes not been open, one could almost have believed that he was only asleep.

The Emperor regarded the immobile form impassively, reaching out with his mind towards the broken presence of the Marine's consciousness. What he found could no longer be called Nathaniel Tor: it was a cold empty darkness, filled with pain and hopeless longing. Whatever had made the Marine an individual was completely lost now.

"No signs of physical trauma," Tamra Tycho, one of the Adeptus Biologis that were stationed with the XI Legion, said. "Physical deterioration in line with Adeptus Astartes physiology. Subject Tor did not enter sus-an induced coma, however, his brainwaves correspond to a subject in deep coma."

"Of his squad, three others were similarly affected, while the other six displayed symptoms of a schizophrenic breakdown," she continued, her tone matter of fact, as if she dealt with similar happenings daily. "They were provided with medication, but showed no signs of improvement."

"That will be all, Adept," the Emperor said, still looking at the immobile Astartes.

Nothing was without flaws, and his creations were no exemption. He had not expected that one of them would become apparent so early and so dramatically. A whole Legion laid low by the death of an individual…

He would have to make sure this was truly the case, but he doubted he was wrong. The XI Legion would follow the master they had never met, and the world that had destroyed him.

* * *

Marbas's nose was bleeding. He wiped it and resumed his silent vigil. He had barely moved from where the white-armoured sergeant had left him. The three other youths in the Initiates' robes clustered at the other end of the chamber.

Khaba was with them too.

Marbas would have preferred to have him taken away—he always felt uneasy around him, and if he stood too close, his nose started bleeding.

The sergeant had brought them together, and left them together, with all the others. Marbas had not moved from Khaba's side since then. He was the only other boy inducted into the Legion with him. The others... It was best not to think of them.

They were gone.

"Say something," Khaba hissed.

Marbas looked at him. He didn't know what he could say—he'd never been good with words, and Khaba made him uneasy. His stomach lurched, and he felt blood trickle from his nose again. He wanted Khaba gone, and he didn't want to be distracted. If he didn't concentrate, he would start thinking about the others.

"Shut up," he said both to Khaba and his own mind.

"You're not going to collapse, are you?" Khaba answered. "You sound like a servitor."

Blood trickled down Marbas's lip, and he brought his hand up again. The coppery taste lingered, and his hand was covered in reddish brown smears. But he didn't feel faint, and he didn't feel like a servitor. He felt uneasy, and there were thoughts he did not want to think, because if he started, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop.

But he couldn't help remembering—the rush of emotions around him, the darkness reaching out, cold and empty, and—He had been glad when Khaba had grabbed his arm, even if it had felt numb later, and he had been glad he stayed with him, because he kept the darkness and pain away.

With effort he managed to stretch his lips into what could pass for a reassuring smile, and managed a strangled, "No."

* * *

A part of human nature had always been to fall, but equally it had been to pick oneself up and keep trying. Man was not like the Eldar, pining for lost glory, nor like the orks, forever searching mindless slaughter. To be human was and would always be to move forwards.

Losing one of the Primarchs and his Legion was a set-back, but he had been aware that it might happen, had he not? Outside of his influence, there was always a chance something unfortunate would befall his sons and prevent them from joining the Great Crusade. But even from this, could he learn.

And so, the Emperor returned to Terra with the two Star Seeds, and several broken shells that once had been Legionnaires.

"You had not planned for this?" Malcador asked, as they regarded the cell holding one of the Astartes of the XIth Legion. The once proud warrior raised his head, and roared a mindless challenge. It almost seemed as if he was reacting to the voices outside, but it soon became apparent that was not the case. Instead of charging towards the source of the voices, he threw himself at the nearest wall, banging at it with his fists.

"I had not expected the bond between Legion and Primarch to be this strong," the Emperor replied. His gaze focused on the Marine and the maddened man slumped bonelessly to the floor, knuckles bruised and bleeding. His chest rose steadily, but his expression showed that whatever he was dreaming of was not pleasant. "There has to be a flaw in their gene-seed, one of which I was not aware."

"If it happened once, can it happen again?" Malcador mused.

The Emperor turned to look at him sharply. "What are you suggesting?"

"If the death of their Primarch has destroyed the Legion, would the death of a Legion destroy the Primarch?"

The Master of Mankind did not reply at first. His expression became thoughtful, as he looked back towards the cell.

He had been aware that his sons may not become what he had intended, and thought that he had prepared for it accordingly. Was that not why Leman Russ and his Legion existed? But…

"You will not mention this to anyone, Malcador," he finally stated.

The Sigilite bowed, his features hidden beneath the shadow of his hood.

* * *

**AN **Since I'm not going to tell you outright in story what exactly happened, feel free to guess in reviews-if you ask, I will tell you if you guessed right.

What I will explain is this: there were two Senshi on the planet: Sailor Chi and Sailor Phi. If any of you read the manga, the names will be familiar.


	19. Star Souls VIII

**Star Souls VIII**

For the first time, the Emperor could study a star seed without fearing he might damage its bearer. The crystals rested on the palm of his hand, shinning softly, as he examined them. One a deep blood-red, the other a dark green.

It was… disconcerting to hold a star seed not connected to a living, breathing being. There was no layer of emotions, no quiet buzz of thoughts. Only smooth cool crystal that felt almost like glass.

With a thought, he extended his mind deeper into the green gem. Without the layer of emotions obscuring its nature, he felt…

A core of iron, surrounded by liquid hydrogen. Then, an atmosphere of hydrogen. Clouds and storms, and elements mingling, as the orb spun in the darkness. No, not total darkness. Always, one side in the shadow, the other bathed in light.

There was no sense of identity, but… yes, a glimmer of something that might become a feeling, a compulsion if allowed to grow. If he were to express it, it would be one word: "Protect."

With a start, he pulled back. He had known that he was holding two souls in his hand, but now… now he knew those were souls of planets.

* * *

The discovery of what the star seeds were, the Emperor had not only shared with Serenity. There were others, like Malcador, and the Thousand Son Atharva, who were also told. The Astartes psyker had turned out to be a surprisingly fortunate inclusion into the project, as his talents were particularly pronounced where the reading of fates and natures was concerned. Once he grasped how to uncover the nature of a star seed not connected to a living host, he applied himself to reading ones that belonged to a living woman.

The underlying principle was the same—a simple psychometric reading, but one that needed the cooperation of the bearer. They had to focus on wanting to protect, preferably without determining what. It sounded quite like not thinking about "pink rhinos" but it did the trick.

The Emperor suspected that his own attempts failed because he was Serenity's father and an authority figure for both Thorgerd and Kressida. Atharva, on the other hand, came with no such burden. It wasn't that he was beneath them in social hierarchy—it was more that he would not realize the significance of certain private, embarrassing matters. Or perhaps it was that outside of combat, Atharva was surprisingly non-threatening for a post-human warrior giant.

"It's not just planets," Atharva said, handing Serenity her silver crystal. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his breathing was laboured, as if he had run a great distance. "Her Highness is… connected to Luna."

The Emperor's regarded the Marine thoughtfully, as did Serenity. She was first to speak: "But… I never felt anything special on Luna." Then, quickly, she added, "Are you all right?"

The Marine nodded, seemingly embarrassed by his weakness.

The Emperor motioned for Atharva to sit down—it was exceedingly rare that a Space Marine would need to, but it seemed like this was one of those cases. The psyker looked truly worn out, and it would be counter-productive to have this get in the way of him explaining what he saw.

Obediently, Atharva sat down, and continued his explanations. "I don't think it was "our" Luna." He smiled ruefully. "It has much more picturesque ruins."

Serenity appeared confused, but the Emperor nodded thoughtfully. "It would make sense. It would be the Luna of wherever you are from…" he sighed softly. Alternative universes…

* * *

The Emperor silently examined the two star seeds. It was a paltry consolation, but nevertheless, it meant something could be salvaged. With them, he could observe the reincarnation process much more closely. He could see what variables could be safely changed, and which couldn't.

Thorgerd sat in front of him, radiating curiosity. Unlike Serenity, she had not been strongly affected by the deaths—coming from a harsh world and not being directly involved had its advantages.

"I am to bear a Bellatrix?" she asked.

"You are to carry a son, who will be the bearer of a star seed," the Emperor replied.

Thorgerd's eyebrows rose, as she considered the statement. For a moment, her eyes turned to the dark green crystal hovering over his palm.

"Why me?" she asked.

"You are a Bellatrix," the Emperor replied. "It will allow me to see if the interaction between two star seeds will increase their power or cause any other effects."

Thorgerd nodded and grinned. "I survived three births on Fenris. I doubt another one will kill me." Then her expression became thoughtful again. "But why a son? Not that I'm refusing…"

It was now the Emperor's turn to fall silent, as he considered his answer. Just how much could he safely tell her? His plans were no danger to her, but… but the last time he had made great plans they had been derailed quite thoroughly. In the end, he decided not to tell the whole truth, but merely hint.

"There may come a time when knowing if there is a difference between how star seeds work for a man and for a woman will be crucial," he replied.

Thorgerd nodded slowly, considering. "Do you want to make the child a Space Marine?"

Now it was the Emperor's turn to think the words over. At first, he simply thought that if it worked, then the child would be technically immortal. He had seen no reason to turn it into an Astartes, but perhaps… Yes, it was not a bad idea. He could see if there would be no adverse effects, and if there were any, he could work on counter-acting them. "I do."

"I have one condition then: if he is to enter a Legion, it will be the Rout," Thorgerd said firmly.

The Emperor raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Not who will be the father?"

Thorgerd shrugged. "A queen gives birth for her tribe. As long as I'm not supposed to marry him, I will trust your judgment."

* * *

Malcador the Sigilite rarely felt completely out of his depth, but such moments did happen. True to his character, and mindful with whom he was dealing, the Siglite did not raise his voice, and did not scream "You want me to do what?" Instead, he arched his eyebrows.

"I don't believe this was mentioned when we discussed my duties," he said mildly.

"When we were discussing your duties, the apparently reliable reincarnation mechanism was still in its own dimension," the Emperor answered.

Malcador was about to counter, when the other occupant of the room spoke up.

"Am I not attractive enough for the Sigillite?" Thorgerd asked, casually flicking her braid over her shoulder. "Or are you afraid you are not man enough for me, grandfather?"

Malcador gave the Emperor an alarmed stare, and said, "I am too old-"

"Both of you stop this nonsense," the Emperor replied, his voice taking on an irritated edge. "She will only carry the child to term. I'm not asking you to sleep with him—I don't have the time to wait until you get it right."

Malcador breathed out a small sigh of relief, only to notice Thorgerd's almost comical expression of confusion. "Ah, I think we forgot to explain how artificial reproduction works to our resident barbarian queen."

* * *

The dark green star seed rested in her palm again, cool to the touch and brimming with unformed potential. She held it fast, bound to herself, so that it would not disappear in search of a host.

Thorgerd was lying on a cot, several devices measuring her vital signs, while others monitored the zygote. Serenity sensed the other woman was nervous, though she masked it well. Neither of them could be certain if what they were about to attempt would work.

"It looks unimpressive," Thorgerd said, eyeing the star seed doubtfully.

Serenity giggled softly. "The word you're looking for is elegant and minimalist."

She was rewarded with an unimpressed stare; clearly, she shouldn't tease Thorgerd anymore. It was a good thing she was not a doctor: she suspected her bedside manner would not have been adequate.

Slowly, she held out her hand. The seed flew up, as she released a fraction of her hold on it, and started spinning around its own axis. She wondered if it mimicked how the planet it represented spun wherever it was.

Then, she focused her will on the crystal and poured her intent into it. She gave it direction, pushed it towards the lump of cells that was becoming Thorgerd's son.

The star seed floated down, until it hovered over Thorgerd. Then, it disappeared, and suddenly, she felt two presences, where before there had been only one.

* * *

Thorgerd had had her doubts, but she had said the words, and now she couldn't easily back out with her honour intact. She was one of the women who took to pregnancy well, but it did annoy her nonetheless. Mostly, because she had to sit back, and after a certain point always keep close to a toilet.

There was also the matter of lacking a husband. She did miss Bulveye acting like he had somehow made the child from the rarest wood and then battled a host of daemons. She certainly couldn't expect that from Malcador who only showed up occasionally and asked the same questions the medicae bored her with.

And there were the medical checks. After the star seed had been implanted they seemed to never end, and she had no clue what most of them were for. There was a beeping monitor, and one displaying an image of the embryo, and so many others that she stopped paying attention to almost all of them. Except for the one that showed the child. It was amazing to see it move while still inside her.

The Emperor looked satisfied though, so she doubted she had anything to worry about. Instead, she started considering names. She knew the gender, so why wait until the child was born? As she thought this, she realized that there was one more thing that set apart this pregnancy from the others. She was expecting the child to live.

In a way, it was frightening. On Fenris, there were so many risks both for the child and the mother: infections, hostile tribes, wild beasts… A woman had to be prepared to lose several of her children in their infancy.

But now, she was part of the Imperium, and could take safety and medical care for granted.

A part of her wanted to run back to Fenris, away from the unfamiliar world, back to a place where things followed patterns she had known all her life. But thoughts like these were easily banished. She was bearing the child for the good of the Imperium, and it was her duty to make sure the child was born healthy.

A queen did not have children for herself.

She placed her hand on her belly and nodded to herself. "I think I'll name you Snorri." And this Snorri would grow up to fulfil his potential, she was convinced.


	20. Star Souls IX

**Star Souls IX**

The boy was healthy and she was no longer nursing. If she had felt so inclined, Thorgerd could have left him in Serenity's care and returned to the Rout to conquer the Galaxy. She was quite certain that the Princess would have taken good care of Snorri, and yet… And yet, she'd seen him before he had been born…

Besides, the Princess was a good woman, but if she brought him up, it would be less likely for Snorri to become one of the Vlyka. True, it would not be certain even if she brought him up herself, but she wondered if the Princess wouldn't try to dissuade Snorri.

No. She wanted to raise this child. A child with a planet's soul. She wanted to be his mother—the Crusade would not end before he would become an adult or old enough to be initiated into a Legion. The Crusade could wait for a decade or two. They would pass soon enough, and she'd know that Snorri had been prepared.

The Emperor did not protest and Serenity appeared to be glad, though neither would be staying on Terra all the time. There would be others that would monitor Snorri's development and health, when the Emperor would be attending his other duties.

To tell the truth, she didn't think the monitoring was necessary. The boy was larger than her older sons had been at his age, and she was starting to suspect his lungs were specifically attuned to making as much noise as possible. It wasn't that he cried more; on the contrary, he seemed more sociable.

The Adepts and the Emperor were quite firm that it was because they were monitoring him. And because of the silly colourful toys, which admittedly did keep Snorri very occupied. Not all the time, sometimes, the boy could not be distracted by them. Like now.

Currently, a Magos Biologos was taking a sample of the boy's skin, to which the child was not taking kindly. He scrunched up his face and started wailing, and the Adept withdrew, his posture radiating disgust. Thorgerd scooped Snorri up and started soothing him.

"Shush, it will stop hurting in a moment," she said, patting the boy's back. "A big strong boy like you shouldn't cry over such a little sting."

* * *

She had expected Snorri to be somewhat different than her sons. He wasn't growing up on Fenris, after all, and didn't have to worry about getting eaten by whichever example of the fauna got peckish. He did not only have a toy sword, but a miniature replica of a bolter, too.

Where her sons would learn to hunt with Bulveye, Snorri learned how to read and write with children of Terran nobility. All of those boys were chosen as possible candidates to be initiated into a Legion, and so combat was not forgone, but it was all training.

How would he know how to hunt without feeling the wind in his hair as he chased the prey?

"Which is why the Space Wolves are the only competent Legion?" Kressida asked, white even teeth flashing in a grin, as she danced away from Throgerd's swing. The hammer connected with the floor instead, ripples of electricity spearing from where it hit.

The girl was tall and muscular, but where Thorgerd was a storm, she was the wind: evading hits and turning one's strength against them.

"Aren't they?" Thorgerd shot back, striking again. She chose not to call her out on calling the Rout "Space Wolves". Kressida was a Terran, after all.

"Of course not," the young woman answered, twisting out of Thorgerd's way again and sending a gust of wind at her. It was strong enough to make the Fenrisian stumble, but she didn't let it pick her up and slam against the wall. "If they were the only competent Legion, then the Emperor would not have made any others, would he?"

They broke away, Thorgerd resting her hammer on the floor, while Kressida held her sword loosely.

"I know that there are Terrans in every Legion and that those in the Rout have acclimatized well, but Snorri is my child. I will worry for him no matter how unreasonable it is," Thorgerd replied.

Kressida shook her head. "He seems to be quite fine. I mean, I hadn't seen him hitting any girls with his dolls…"

"He doesn't have any dolls," Thorgerd corrected her, trying to stifle her laughter. It was hard not to imagine little sandy-haired Kressida solemnly whacking other girls with a much abused doll. "But I appreciate the thought."

She picked up her hammer, and grinned. "Shall we?"

* * *

Bulveye was starting to suspect that the Emperor, beloved by all, had made it so that becoming a Space Marine after puberty was life-threatening on purpose. He should have been angrier about the whole thing with Malcador, Thorgerd and a star seed, but instead he only felt mildly put out. Although, he supposed the fact that they had not slept with each other might have also soothed his pride.

At least, he supposed it was his pride. It could as well have been that he was annoyed because something that ought to have been straight-forward was giving him a headache. Or would have given him one, if he weren't a Space Marine.

"Throw a chair? Or maybe a table?" Thorgerd suggested helpfully.

Bulveye gave her a reproachful look. "I don't throw furniture when I'm angry. It's not like you can just hunt yourself a new table."

Thorgerd sighed. "This is all much more complicated than it used to be, isn't it?"

Bulveye grimaced. "Once I'm on the battlefield, it's as straightforward as it used to be."

"Lucky you," Thorgerd laughed. Then she fell silent, twirling the tip of her braid, her brow creased in a frown. She seemed to be considering something—at least, she used to do this whenever she was thinking deeply about something earlier. Bulveye doubted it would have changed, just because he wasn't there to see it. "But complicated isn't always worse, is it?"

"It isn't?" Bulveye asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"It's something I've been thinking about," she said. "On Fenris, I didn't know which of my children will survive, and here, on Terra…" She trailed off.

Bulveye remained confused. He did remember grieving for his eldest, but that was not what Thorgerd meant, was it? She must have meant the other one, the one he had never held, because it had sickened almost as soon as it was born. It hadn't learned from him how to hold a sword—they hadn't interacted at all.

"It's… different," Thorgerd said, softly. "I wish I could explain this to you—but I can't anymore. I saw my child before it was born—I didn't just feel it kick, I saw it move. I knew he was healthy and strong. I didn't have to fear."

Bulveye only gave her helpless look. As much as he'd like to deny it, he couldn't—this was a part of life that he could not relate to anymore. His memories of fatherhood were still there, but he would never be a father again, and couldn't find it in himself to regret it. He had thousands of brothers. When he'd die, his progenoids would be implanted into another Wolf. His old life, his old aspirations of having his son follow his steps were only fleeting dream-memories.

"This is when being immortal becomes a burden," Thorgerd said, as she rose and reached up to brush her fingers against his cheek. "All the girls I grew up with are too old and too far away, and even if I brought one here, they wouldn't know what to say either."

"We'll find more of your kind, though, won't we?" Bulveye replied. "Some of them should be able to relate."

* * *

Snorri knew he was different from the other boys, but he couldn't really pin-point it. The other boys wouldn't answer they "wanted to be like mom" when they grow up, but then their mothers were not the Bellatrix Iovialis. Most of them did not have to do long and annoying check-ups, with samples of blood, and hair, and skin being taken.

And most of them didn't get carted off to have the Emperor of Mankind examine them, because they could they could create a small, buzzing energy-storm. It hadn't occurred to Snorri that it might be out of the ordinary that he could so it: his mother could summon thunder and lightning, so why shouldn't he have powers like her?

A small buzzing energy storm was a bit anti-climatic, though. It sparkled around him, small balls of energy crackling and zooming wildly. The large servitor spasmed, as its circuits sparked and exploded. Snorri swallowed, and tried to call the storm away. It was much harder than he had thought it would be, the energy flaring up as wildly as his fear coursed through his veins.

Finally, he managed to reign in his emotions and with them, his powers. The servitor crumpled, now a smoking charred heap of barely recognizable components. The smoke detectors finally registered it, and let loose their fury, sprinkling water all over. It plastered his hair to his skull and his clothes to his body. It got into his mouth, as he panted heavily.

"What happened?" a familiar voice snapped. Snorri whirled around and saw his mother, towering over him.

He tried to explain, but his throat remained clenched, refusing to allow him to make any sound. It was as if the fear that had fueled the storm had somehow moved and coiled itself around his neck like an adamantium collar.

"I-it went berserk," he finally managed to cough out.

Snorri's mother looked thoughtfully at the servitor and took his hand. Though by now, he normally would have tried to squirm away—he was too old to be led by hand—this time he didn't mind at all.

"It's time, it seems," his mother said.

* * *

Malcador did not spend much time with Snorri. They met every few weeks, so he could see how the boy developed. While the possibility of observing how his powers would develop, and if they would develop, was intriguing, it was not enough to tempt Malcador to take a more active role. He was quite certain he needed to recover after the time when Horus and Serenity were both roughly at the level of teenagers in their emotional development. His work on Terra was much too absorbing to raise a child, anyway.

When Thorgerd entered with the boy to announce that his powers just surfaced, he remained at the Emperor's side. "That answers one question," the Emperor said. "We know that if the star seed's bearer had powers, they will have them regardless of sex."

"Of course, that begs the question, if the nature of their powers gets altered depending on their sex," Malcador said, rubbing his chin.

"Do souls have gender or do minds have gender?" the Emperor said. "But for now, we will have to leave this question unanswered. I will prepare a new batch of tests. I want to see if there's a difference in how his body takes the strain of using his powers."

"He will be old enough to take the Trial soon," Thorgerd interjected.

"That will also be educational," the Emperor said placidly.


	21. Star Souls X

**Star Souls X**

Snorri wasn't sure what to make of the Sigillite. He couldn't even bring himself to think of him as his father. He wasn't like his mother or like the parents of other boys that he knew. If he were to be honest, he'd have preferred to have a cooler father, one who didn't look old and could take him somewhere interesting. Instead, they just met in the Sigillite's study roughly once a month, something Snorri was quite grateful for: it was enough that he had to fidget and listen to an old man. At least this way none of his friends would see him talk about the sort of stuff that interested old administrators.

"How is school?" the Sigillite asked.

"Fine," Snorri replied almost reflexively. Mother wouldn't have asked like that, but then mother knew what he was learning. He supposed the Sigillite did not know it.

"Did you learn anything interesting lately?" The next question was accompanied with what could be best described as kind, grandfatherly smile.

"Earth used to have oceans, did you know that?" Snorri answered almost without thinking. That had been fascinating: the world he lived on used to be vibrant and full of life, and then there were wars, and it wasn't anymore.

"I've seen the last one, before it evaporated," the Sigillite said. The grandfatherly smile was replaced by a different, more wistful one.

"What was it like?" Snorri asked. He'd seen a few reproductions of old paintings and picts, but from all of the descriptions, he somehow had expected something grander. Not just blue, or blue-green, or green, or grey water on and on.

"Big, wet and rather toxic, by the end," the Sigillite replied. "Nowadays, it's mostly a symbol of what had been destroyed. It's by far not the only thing, and certainly not the most important." He paused and looked at Snorri searchingly. "Do you know how much was lost during the Long Night?"

Snorri considered his answer—was this a prelude to hearing more about the oceans, or maybe on how they were lost, or would there be some boring old people stuff? It did seem that he was expected to participate and provide some sort of reply, so he hazarded an "A lot?" It earned him an arched eyebrow.

"A succinct answer to a complex question," the Sigillite said. "But I suppose for you it should matter that we will recover what was lost."

The boy remained puzzled, starting to feel as if he was missing a significant part of the conversation. He really preferred talking with mother—she didn't make him feel completely confused.

"I believe you will have homework to do," the Sigillite said. "Don't let me detain you."

Snorri decided not to think about why the Sigillite's words made him uneasy and all but fled.

* * *

Atharva regarded the boy. Though young, he was tall and already showing signs that as an adult he would be powerfully-built. He wasn't as pale as a native Fenrisian, and his hair was dark, but one could still see the heritage of the icy death world in him. Compared to his older brother, he was definitely a lot less… volatile. Given that he had grown up on Terra and was familiar with a civilised society, it was to be expected.

There was a sense of unease about the boy, too. Atharva had to wonder if he was uneasy in the presence of a psyker, or if it was something else. He knew that the Wolves of Fenris were peculiar when it came to those with psychic gifts, and he couldn't help but wonder if the boy's mother would have taught him such prejudice even on Terra. Or was it the instinctive antipathy that he had been told could crop up between his Legion and the Rout?

Still, he needed to focus on his task—Snorri's prejudices, if there were any, were not relevant in any way.

"Try to relax," he said, and smiled at the boy.

The smile that Snorri returned had something of a nervous grimace in it, but Atharva chose to ignore it and act as if it had been perfectly genuine. There was no sense in embarrassing or antagonizing the boy, after all.

He focused and tried to glean a better sense of the boy's Warp presence. The first thing he read were Snorri's emotions, but he did not dwell on them. Instead, he tried to probe deeper and see the power that was housed in the boy. It was not as blinding as that of the Princess, nor as wild as that of the Fenrisian Stormqueen. It was… frantic? There was a sense of constant motion, energy and movement.

But it was nothing like the presence of a psyker.

In retrospect, he supposed it was obvious—the boy's soul was not in the Warp, though it did influence it heavily. It echoed, like that of any human being, save for perhaps the Silent Sisters—it spilled into it and radiated like a small star, but the boy could neither absorb the powers of the Aether, nor channel them.

In short, although Snorri's father was one of the most powerful psykers in the Imperium, the boy was most certainly not one.

* * *

Alvar Bulveyesson had always been in a unique situation. He had railed against it and sometimes still felt pangs of shame when he thought back to his first visit to Terra and the damage he had done. Still, he couldn't decline meeting Snorri – who besides him would understand the challenges the boy faced, when he grew up under the surgical sight of the Terran Adepts and in the shadow of such unique parents?

Not only was his mother the Bellatrix Iovialis, but his father was the Sigillite, the Regent of Terra and one of the most powerful psykers humanity had ever produced. And that wasn't enough: his newest brother was the Bellator Apis, and it seemed like he was going to be the last Terran Wolf, if he lived through the trials. Alvar had to wonder how a child of the Sigilite would do—would his father's blood be a blessing, a curse or neither? Would the blood of Fenris balance the fact that the boy's father was glorified witch-scribe?

The boy he met appeared to be small—but then he supposed it was him, who was huge, and Snorri was probably at least average in size. It had been such a long time since he had to evaluate how tall a child was, he barely had any points of reference.

"Hello," Snorri said, which was not exactly the greeting Alvar was used to either.

"Hello," he replied, feeling rather silly. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, and you?" Snorri replied.

"I'm good as well," Alvar said and realized he was running out of social conventions. He could have asked Snorri how he dealt with being a specimen to be experimented on, but that wouldn't have been diplomatic. So he shut up and waited for the boy to come up with a question.

"What is it like being a Space Marine?" Snorri asked, saving Alvar from the burden of finding a new topic for conversation, and instead forcing him to analyze what he was.

"It's..." he paused, considering his words. "It's not easy—you are forever moving from one place to another, and you have to fight countless foes. But you will also know glory that mortal men cannot share—you will fight battles they could never possibly win. And you will know brotherhood that goes beyond mortal bonds of family."

In retrospect, a speech like that was not exactly the best explanation for a boy of Snorri's age. Alvar could see the confusion in the boy's expression and wondered how best to explain to a child.

"You can see that I'm much bigger than other adults," he finally said. "I'm also far stronger and faster. I have better hearing, better eye-sight and a better sense of smell." Those were obvious things, but he supposed he needed to start somewhere. "In consequence, I suppose I see the world differently. When talking with you, I have to remember that you can't notice some things I do, for example."

"So, it's difficult to speak with people who aren't Space Marines for you?" Snorri asked.

"It's not… difficult, just harder than talking with other Space Marines," Alvar said, trying to think of a good comparison. "Think of how easy it is for you to talk with your friends, whom you've known your whole life, and how much more difficult is to talk with somebody you've just met. It's quite like this, I guess."

Snorri frowned, and in this moment, he reminded Alvar of his mother. The expression was very much like the one she wore when thinking deeply.

"Do you think I'd be a good Space Marine?" Snorri asked, giving him a look that was both hopeful and nervous.

Alvar closed his eyes, considering his answer. "I barely know you, little brother, but I believe any child of our mother can become a great warrior."

* * *

"You named him after your first son, didn't you?" Leman asked, as he watched a group of youths spar. Most of them were pale, with fair or red hair, but one stood out, marked by the darker tone of his skin and black hair.

"I like the name," Thorgerd replied. She did not look away from the youths. "And you're trying to get me to let my guard down."

"Is it working?" Leman countered, quite unabashed at being caught.

Thorgerd had to laugh—it was one of those things that ought not to work at all, but somehow since it was her adoptive brother doing it, they did. She supposed it was because of what he was, but it did not diminish her good humour.

"It won't be nearly as amusing if I tell you," she answered.

Leman grinned, fangs flashing. It was one of those things she thought she was used to, and yet could not help noticing every time. Then he grew more serious. "Are you sure you want that? He's probably going to live as long as you do anyway."

"It's not my decision," Thorgerd replied. "Not anymore."

Leman glanced at the youths, who by now seemed to be finishing their sparring. "No, I suppose it's not."

For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the boys leave the training cage. They clustered around a red-head with a nose that must have been broken many times, and chatted enthusiastically. Snorri did not seem to be taking the lead, but neither was he being actively rejected by others. He seemed to be fitting in, despite not being a native Fenrisian.

Leman smirked. "I was starting to worry you're trying to take over my Legion, but your sons lack your ambition, sister."

Thorgard snorted. "Give Snorri time. He's still young."

* * *

The sanguine crystal hovered glittering softly. The Emperor's gaze was on it, his expression thoughtful. Malcador seated himself comfortably nearby, and looked at the star seed as well. For a moment, he studied it, wondering what potential it was hiding.

"If you wanted to implant this one, you're too late, my friend," he said. "Thorgerd seems to be quite eager to rejoin the Crusade."

A smile tugged at the Emperor's lips. "What would I learn from that?" he asked. "No, it will wait until I can use it to further our understanding of how they work."

"How they work or how to create them?" Malcador asked.

"One leads to the other, Malcador," the Emperor said. "One leads to the other."

* * *

**AN: **And next will be another origin story, which will be posted in www. fanfiction s / 8993147 / 1 / Lovehammer-GE-Primarch-Origins


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